One thing After Another
by Stealth Dragon
Summary: Just how hard is it to get Danny to the hospital? Sheldon and Lindsey are about to find out when a case interferes with the simple act of saving their friend's life.
1. Mutual Concerns

A/N: I'm back! Ready with another tale of Danny abuse to satiate the sadistic needs of you, my fellow Danny fans. Hopefully it will prove totally different from my previous stories. For one thing, more of the team will play a part. For another, it has nothing to do with Danny's past. But it should prove interesting.

On the less than plus side, updates will only be weekly until I've finished writing the entire thing, which should be fairly soon. I don't want to get ahead of myself and end up losing the quality of the story. Those of you reading my SGA fic Mercy are already suffering through this.

**One Thing After Another**

By

Stealth Dragon

Rating – T, violence, of course.

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI New York, it's characters, or Danny Messer. But Carmine Giovinazzo is mine! Mine I tell you! (I wish, I wish, I wish).

Synopsis – Just how hard is it to get Danny to the hospital? Sheldon and Lindsey are about to find out when a case interferes with the simple act of saving their friend's life. Suspense mostly, with a little humor (I hope). Not really much romance, but lots of Danny and Lindsey friendship you can interpret as you wish. I'm not fond of shippers.

A/N: For those of you doing, or have done, a Danny being sick story, I am not taking your ideas. There is more to this tale than Danny being sick, though that plays a major roll.

Ch. 1

Mutual Concerns

_Chaos and Misfortune; you do not have to wait too long._

_Five little words one should never say – what could possibly go wrong?_

_Personal quote_

Led in the limbs, a metaphor so simple it was a cliché, but as the saying went, 'an oldie but goody', so Danny went with it. It felt like he had led coating the bones of his limbs. Danny sniffed caustically. It was joining forces with the hollow pit in his stomach where food would normally be. Now a throb was pounding out a beat at the base of his skull to the rhythm of his heart.

" Danny?"

The cold was finding a path through the coat to his body by soaking into the skin of his neck and face. He shivered, but it was an insubstantial tremor he was fairly confident hadn't been noticed.

" Danny?"

Warm moisture tried to leak down his nose, so he sniffed again. A chain reacting was started when his lungs craved a deeper breath, so he inhaled through his mouth, cold air shooting down his trachea, filling his lungs, and aggravating building congestion enough for him to cough a few times.

" Danny!"

Danny closed his eyes when the next throb was more like a pound. He turned his head to look at Stella standing by the body, Mac on the other side with his back turned, studying the sun-radial pattern of spattered blood on the grimy wood wall. Stella was looking exasperated, tapping her heeled foot, and extended one hand toward Danny.

" Camera," she demanded.

Danny blinked in momentary confusion until he finally looked down at his chest and the camera hanging around his neck. " Oh, sorry Stel." He removed it and handed it over.

Stella smiled. " Finally," and started flashing. Danny gave another cough to clear the gathering gunk before it could fully regroup. He turned the rest of his body to face the corpse painted in blood with a head half-man, half-hamburger. Through and through, with brains mixed in with the blood spatter congealed in place. The gore wasn't doing any favors for his stomach. He swallowed, and breathed through his mouth to keep from suffering the metallic stench. Blood had pooled beneath the head, and soaked the clothes to ride up to the chest.

Danny grimaced. His body's timing sucked. A high profile case, and his immune system had finally decided to call it quits and let the cold or flu or whatever it was have its way. At least Danny assumed it was the flu. Flus usually came quick with a lot more symptoms besides loss of appetite, like a fever, which hadn't manifested until today, but Danny couldn't be sure.

Danny wasn't sure of anything. He really needed to see a doctor. Two weeks of having all his meals so unappealing that he either ate only half or none at all, a constant itch in his lungs, and on again/off again headaches with fever rearing its ugly head _now_ – Hawkes didn't need to tell him that that was messed up. But when it came to health, Danny tended to be a procrastinator. Past checkups for headaches and appetite loss had pointed toward stress and lack of sleep. So why go to the doctor when he'd only end up getting an earful of the same old mantra? Even now a doctor visit wasn't big on his to do list. He had hoped to attempt asking for some sick leave to sleep the thing off, work it out on his own accord rather than have a doctor tell him the same old, same old – you've got the flu, rest, fluids, you'll be fine. Danny had health insurance so it wasn't like he was going to suffer financially for it, but going to the doctor over nothing tended to be a pain in the butt.

Big profile case or not, Danny needed time off. But it pissed him off, because Mac had already stated he would need everyone on this thing that could be spared. It made Danny feel like he was bailing out, which was a thousand miles from the truth. If it hadn't been for the increasing cough, increasing weariness, increasing loss of hunger, increasing headache, and – hell – increase of misery period, he would have kept his mouth shut about it in a heartbeat.

" Danny!"

Danny flinched, and looked at Stella, who was staring at him oddly.

" You okay?"

Danny could only nod as he tried to hold back a cough. He wasn't out of it yet. Maybe he could hold back a little longer...

CSINY

Stella eyed Danny over carefully. " Okay." She didn't believe it, and she was pretty sure Mac would notice. It was only a matter of time before he did, then he could deal with it as needed. Going behind Danny's back and ratting him out would only do to piss him off, and it was pointless to boot since Mac eventually found out everything all the same. Better to stay on Danny's good side and let things play out as they should. Besides, he was probably just tired, like they all were. Mac had called them out at unearthly hours, long before the actual work day was to begin.

Stella pointed to the body, turning Danny's attention to it. " Check out what's all over the shirt. That can't be blood.

Danny crouched while pulling a swab from his kit. " Not unless blood can go jaundice. Looks more like some kind of amber gel or paint."

He wiped a sample. Stella pulled out her mini-flashlight and placed a hand on Danny's back as support to lean in closer. She felt him shivering through the coat, and that immediately yanked her focus from the dead body to the living one beside her. She looked him over, but in the dusky light of the dilapidated building, couldn't get a perfect visual assessment.

" Danny?"

" What?" he replied, keeping up the perusal of the shirt.

" Cold?"

" A little, why?"

" It's not that cold."

Stella caught movement in her peripheral vision. Mac was listening in.

Danny turned his head to give her a scowl, so she narrowed her eyes in self defense.

" I get cold easy sometimes," he shot.

Stella smiled tightly and patted his back. " Sure you do," she shot back.

Didn't matter anyways. Mac had caught on. He could take it from here.

NY

The ride back to the lab was of the strong, silent, awkward kind, and just Danny's ill-fated luck to be riding with Mac, Stella safe a car behind with Flack. Because had she chosen to travel in the same vehicle with the two men, Danny would have been burning holes through her head with the dirtiest look his aching brain could dish out.

No time like the present to request that sick leave, provoking the sensation of being a let-down to Mac. Mac was an easy boss to respect and look up to, but that respect bordered on nerve rattling, off and on. Mistakes of the past still motivated Danny today to be as reliable as an old, faithful dog. Hell, even mistakes hadn't been needed to get him all gung-ho when out in the field. He loved what he did, and liked being able to show himself as dependable, because he was dependable, and like hell he was going to allow anyone else to think otherwise.

_Prove myself trustworthy, or die trying,_ he kept thinking. And he would, because if this led-weight feeling and stuffy head were nothing more than a minor cold, he was going to beat himself to hell for it.

Still, he was so freakin' tired.

Danny shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. " Hey, Mac?"

" Yeah?" Mac replied.

" Um, I was thinkin', after today, if – uh... If it'd be okay if I could take a personal day tomorrow? I know you need the help..."

" You mean a sick day," Mac cut in, never taking his eyes from the street while negotiating the heavy traffic.

" Yeah, yeah a sick day. Probably just one. I don't think it's a big deal. Head cold crap. But it's really starting to come down hard, you know?"

Danny glanced at Mac, and saw the start of a small smile.

" I know. It's okay, Danny. Take a day, more than a day, a week if you need it. Just call if it ends up being more than a day. You're no good to me a zombie if it gets that far."

Danny nodded but the tension wouldn't unknot from his shoulders. " Thanks Mac. I'm really sorry about this..."

Again, Mac cut him off. " Don't be. No offense, but you look like you could do with a few hours of real sleep."

That was Mac, always looking out for his kiddies at the lab. Danny had learned a long time ago that Mac went for the nice streak more than rock-hard cop with the Marine attitude. Set back was, the fact had never really sunk in, and Danny felt bad about that. Mac was just the kind of guy that really didn't deserve being disappointed.

Arrival at the lab was only a half hour rather than the wagered hour, and Flack reluctantly yielded ten bucks to both Danny and Stella.

The warmth of headquarters was bliss, but did nothing to change the status of Danny's occasional bouts of small coughs. He followed Mac and Stella as they wound through the halls toward the labs with evidence bags and kits in hand. Danny's own kit was feeling abnormally heavy today, which explained the periodic tremors in his arms. His muscles were rebelling. Obviously, his body wanted something, part of that something being not lugging heavy objects around.

" Hey," Danny said, getting both Mac and Stella to glance over their shoulders. Danny jerked his thumb over his own shoulder. " If it's cool, I'm going to grab an early lunch. I'm freakin' starved." And he was. Time to take advantage of it. Above that, he just wanted to sit before his legs finished their transition into jelly.

Mac nodded. " Go. We got it here."

Danny turned on his heels without stopping and pushed his petulant legs as fast as he could go to the lunch room. He set his kit on the counter – all evidence already with Mac and Stella – and B-lined to the fridge, pulling out a sack containing half a sub-sandwich, chips, and a soda. He headed to the table and dropped the sack before dropping himself into the plastic blue seat with a contented sigh, every muscle he had sighing with him, easing out of their knots. Warm and relaxed, he pulled out the foot, and started with the sandwich.

One bite, and to both his annoyance and unease, he was done. He forced himself to take a second bite, and spent a good two minutes chewing until his stomach finally relented to taking it. The soda he handled a little better, and the potato chips (half the small bag, at any rate). He set the bag down, and tried another bite of sandwich.

Swallowing, he nearly gagged it back up. He dropped it and snatched up the soda since carbon had a way of settling the stomach. He swallowed a few sips, but the churning in his gut only increased as though annoyed by the fact that Danny didn't know when to quit.

Not true, Danny was quitting now. He pushed the food away, planted his elbows on the table, and his forehead in his hands. A hot forehead slick with moisture.

_Freakin' beautiful!_ he mentally snarled. At least his headache was still the same obnoxious throb, neither better or worse. It always struck him as cruel how the stomach toyed with the mind by feigning hunger, only to reject food when it finally came. For Danny, this had been going on for days. Hunger would come gnawing at him, then snub him the moment food was in his mouth. At one point he puked, but contributed it to the funny tasting pizza he'd had that day. Soup he'd been able to handle to some degree, getting past more than two bites. It had been a gradual escalation, starting off subtle enough not to be alarmed by, having him take fewer and fewer bites, or skipping a meal all together because his stomach just wasn't in it. Logically he should have been alarmed a while back, but like with headaches, joint aches, and bad sleep, had blamed it on stress.

Only a matter of time before he puked everything on the first bite.

" Danny?"

Danny jerked, mind snapping as though from a dream. He looked up, eyes sticky and mind groggy, at the dark face scrunched in scrutinizing concern belonging to Sheldon Hawkes, carrying his own sack lunch, and leaning in toward Danny.

Hawke's forehead lined. " You okay man?"

Danny blinked away the dry, and rubbed his sore forehead. " I've been better." Massive understatement.

Sheldon nodded. " Yeah, no doubts there." He took the seat adjacent to Danny. " You're lookin' pale, and a little raccoon eyed to boot. Comin' down with something?"

" Probably."

Sheldon scooted his chair back a little at that. Danny smiled bitterly.

" Gee, thanks for the confidence." Danny proceeded to rub the side of his face. " Can't say that I blame you though." He moved his hand away to check his watch, and what he saw made his heart drop like a rock.

" Son of a... How freakin' long was I here?"

Sheldon shrugged as he pulled out a styrofoam container covered by a plastic lid. " I don't know, I just stepped in. Looked like you were sleeping." He then gave Danny a dead-serious stare. " Maybe you should cut out early before... whatever you've got... get's any worse."

Danny looked at his watch again. He hadn't seen the exact time of their arrival, but if he had to guess, he would say that he had departed from Mac and Stella for lunch about a hour ago. It felt more like three minutes. Now that was just freaky.

" Yeah, maybe you're right." He gathered his now wasted food and dumped it on his way out, feeling oddly liberated from having to both look at it and smell it. But his stomach was still pissed about having had to endure it.

NY

Danny pulled his bag from his locker, pulled his over shirt off, but wasn't able to get to his undershirt when he needed to rest. He dropped onto the bench and rested his head in his hands while taking deep, careful breaths. Careful didn't cut it, he still ended up coughing, feeling the sting of phlegm slapping the back of his throat. He was going to regret it when he woke up tomorrow. There would be a sore throat, and puddles of mucus coating his lungs by early morning.

The mental picture made his stomach slosh. No real food for him. Just a steady diet of snot...

" Aw crap why did I think that!" Danny moaned. Now his stomach really was mad, clenching and writhing like a separate being from the rest of his body.

" Think what?"

It took monumental effort to lift his head and turn it to see Lindsey at her own locker working the combination. Her focus was mainly on her task, and she only looked at Danny on succeeding in getting the combination right and opening the locker with a metallic click. She paused with the door half way open.

" Wow, what pack of cats dragged you in?"

Danny swallowed, feeling phlegm slide down his throat, and shuddered. " The kind that spread the flu. Want a piece of it?"

Lindsey stepped back a little, keeping the door between her face and Danny in case of accidental coughing in her direction. " Not really."

Danny smiled a tired smirk. " Relax, Montana. I'm not that cruel." He stuffed his shirt into his bag then pulled out the long-sleeved hooded jacket he normally wore when going to shoot hoops with Flack. It was clean, so it wasn't like he was going to have to suffer the stench of old sweat. He didn't have the will to put on anything else, or even change into a different undershirt for that matter. He zipped the sweater up, slung the strap of the bag onto his shoulder, rose, and swayed. Lindsey's hand shot out to grab his arm and help steady him.

" Hey, easy Messer, not so fast," she said with a nervous chuckle. " Seriously, are you going to make it? Maybe I should call a cab."

Danny shook his head. " No, I usually take the subway..." he winced at the thought of maneuvering through crowds, and the noise. Right now, even Lindsey's usually mellow voice was making the throb more of a pound. " You know what? Screw it. I'll take a cab."

Lindsey smiled, almost triumphantly, as though she'd just won something. " Need an escort?"

" Not really."

" Too bad. Mac would kill me if he found you flat on your face and knew I could have helped you out. Come on."

She actually took Danny's bag as a sealing to the 'no argument' deal, and led the way out of the locker room. Danny followed reluctantly, slow at first, then trudging along without caring, one foot in front of the other. Fatigue had poured on extra led, and his joints were making a complaint by aching. Danny swung on his coat along the way, and even with a sweater and coat on in the mild temperature of outside, he still shivered, almost as though the cold was seeping from his core rather than through his clothes. City noise – the rush of cars, blaring horns, and continuous clatter of feet - plucked his eardrums that became a hammer to his skull. Lindsey was already flagging down a cab, and three Hacks later, one finally obliged to pull over.

Lindsey tossed the bag in the back seat and stepped aside to let Danny slide in. He looked up at her before she shut the door, and gave her a weary smile.

" Thanks."

Lindsey smiled back. " No problem. Just get better, and don't bring your cooties back here."

It hurt to laugh, but Danny couldn't help it. " You just get out of elementary school, Montana?"

Lindsey leaned with her arms on the door, and the smile became a smirk. " Okay, don't bring your _germs_. It's just that cooties sounded more... polite."

" Yeah, if you're six years old."

Lindsey pursed her lips and shook her head. " Just get better." Then she shoved the door closed. Chuckling, Danny let himself fall back against the seat. Lindsey could banter with the best of them, which was probably why he got so used to her so fast.

The cab pulled away from the curb, and Danny tilted his head back and – for once – allowed himself to enjoy the ride, distaste for cabs not acknowledged. A personal grievance more than a phobia, and this cab was legit, nothing gypsy about it. It was still early in the day, when traffic wasn't so much like a clogged artery about to give the city a heart attack. It was why Danny preferred the subways – nothing to slow a train down ( not including the occasional dead body tossed onto the tracks). But even sick, today was his day, and he actually made it home in record time.

Danny slid from the seat after handing the fare to the Hack. He slung the strap of his bag onto his shoulder and made the unusually arduous trek into his building. His body really was pissed, having him panting by the time he reached the elevator. He coughed between pants, cleared his throat, and breathed shallow to prevent another phlegm-hacking fit.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't taking much to incite another itch in his lungs. The coughing, in turn, escalated the throbbing in his head. He nearly missed the elevator chime over the hacking and blood roaring in his ears. He coughed all the way down the hall to his apartment, and fumbled with his keys when a second assault took him by surprise, doubling his body over and momentarily snatching the breath from him. Having had enough, he forced out several massive coughs until the garbage in his lungs cleared enough for more tolerable inhalations. Too bad for his stomach, the garbage had to go somewhere, and he didn't have a tissue on him at the moment.

Danny finally got his door open and lurched into his apartment, not bothering to switch on the light. His feet kept moving on momentum, and along the way he dumped his keys on the table, bag on the floor, coat on the couch, hooded sweater on the floor of his bedroom, and only stopped when he reached the bathroom. He clicked on the light this time around for a good look at himself.

Corpse pale; never pleasant even on a living face. He leaned forward on the sink with arms that quaked and tried to buckle. His eyes were a disturbing shade of red within the whites, and listless as glass.

Danny had only one immediate desire - fall on the bed and crash. The mere thought made every muscle loosen with anticipation, and he barely caught himself in time from smashing his jaw when his arms finally gave out. Sleep, however, he had to force to be last on the agenda. He had a self-made promise to keep concerning a doctor's appointment. He also needed to try and get food into his stomach. Maybe a little soup. His body needed it to fight this thing, and no way in hell was he letting it resort to eating itself (though he was fairly confident it wouldn't come down to that.)

After a few quick coughs to clear more phlegm – hacking and spitting it into the sink with mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust – Danny pushed off from the sink and dragged his sorry carcass into the kitchen. He grabbed a can of chicken soup from the bottom cupboard – the kind in the cans with the pop-off lids – dumped it in a glass bowl, stuck it in the microwave and let it nuke as he pulled his cell from his pocket. He pulled a chair from the plastic foldable table and dropped himself into it like a dumped sack. The microwave hummed with green digital numbers counting down.

Danny searched his list of numbers for his doctor. He would have laughed, but it came out as a cough instead. He recalled a conversation with Flack and Hawkes over their personal physicians. The joke was what returning ailment each man had that had them going to a doctor enough to program the number into their cells. For Hawkes, his doc was an old buddy from med school. For Flack – oddly enough – it was for the numerous times he kept wrenching his back, with a few scatterings of being shot in between. For Danny, it was more like a necessary evil. Physicals were mandatory for all CSIs, and was coupled with the occasional sprained wrist, ankle, or cracked rib caused by suspects who thought that running from authorities actually accomplished something, Danny didn't think it a bad idea to keep his doctor's number handy.

Danny's call was answered by the female secretary just as the microwave beeped in completion of nuking the soup. Danny leaned forward, popping the door open and snatching a cloth from the sink to pull the bowl out.

" Danny Messer for Dr. Georing..." Danny brought the bowl cautiously to the table. He had to rise from the chair in order to grab a spoon from the drain rack by the sink. " What's the earliest time...?" He nearly dropped the spoon, his eyes going wide. " Thursday? That's like three freakin' days from now? He can't see me sooner?"

The woman went on about the doctor's busy schedule thanks to the flu bug that's been running rampant. She tried to placate Danny by promising to push his appointment up should a time become available, and since Danny was too tired to argue, he let himself be placated.

" Yeah, sure, cool. Eight o'clock Thursday." Chances were good he'd be better enough to cancel the appointment. A happy medium if looked at just right. Danny wasn't looking forward to the visit already. The lady apologized again.

" Nah, it's cool, I totally understand. Thanks, bye." He tossed his phone onto the table with a clatter, then focused his attention and energy on the soup. Playing it safe, he ate around the noodles and chicken, going only for the broth. Three bites and so far so good. He ventured a little further, testing his stomach's limits with four more sips. Still nothing unfortold, so he upped it to five, then finally finished the broth off all together. He was tempted to go for the noodles next, but knew better than to toy with fate and fortune. He dumped the bowl into the sink and headed to his room, grabbing his cell – just in case. He dropped onto the bed with its navy blue comforter, yanked off his shoes, then forced his aching body back to his feet for another trip to the bathroom, grabbing a gray long sleeve shirt and black sweats along the way from the dresser by the door. The shirt was the kind with four buttons at the top – totally useless in his opinion – so he didn't even bother with them.

Now he was ready, and could barely stay upright at the prospect of the warm softness and a trip to the dream scape only a few steps away. He was only two steps out of the bathroom when his stomach clenched, coiled, all out rebelled, and had him whirling around to go rushing back in and dropping to his knees before the toilet as the soup he worked so hard to down came rushing right back up.

NY

A/N: So, what do you think? Like I said, there's more to this story than Danny being sick. Stick with me and You'll soon discover what I mean.


	2. Concern to Worry

A/N: I forgot to mention that this takes place before Hero, so Aiden's not dead. But neither is she in this story, sorry.

Ch. 2

Concern to Worry

Three days later. 4:00 am...

" You're such a dork...!"

_Thump._

Danny snapped from the darkness, opening his eyes to... darkness. Sounds drifted in and out of his ears, muffled by distance and congestion thick as liquid in his head. Some of the sounds faded away, being nothing more than thoughts and dream residue. Funny how they lingered when he couldn't remember his dreams. Too jumbled.

Other sounds remained, garbled, intrusive, a clutter of noise that even beyond Danny's immediate surroundings still made his head pound. He took a deep breath when his lungs demanded air, and soon regretted it when the coughs erupted, never allowing him the chance for another inhale. And to top the misery off, it was accompanied by pain as though every single one of his ribs were busted. Not in reality. It was the muscles – abused and sore to the point that when not causing him agony they were a constant source of discomfort.

Another thump, jolting Danny enough to get him to lift his head from the pillow. His previously sluggish heart worked its way from a slow stupor to a faster thud. He lessened his breathing enough to better hear the sounds.

" Shhh! quiet," someone hissed no where near a whisper. Interspersed between the voices that rose into coherence or fell into murmurs were bouts of obnoxious giggling. Another thump, and this time the jolt was only done by Danny's heart.

" You're gonna piss off the guy who lives here," some female voice snickered.

" Chill, he's probably asleep." A male voice, deep, rather slurred.

" I think he's a cop..." another female voice, just as drunkenly giddy and giggly.

" Let's find out..." the male again.

" No!" the female, still giddy, still drunk. Then came a timid knock on Danny's door, making his heart slam. What the hell was wrong with these people? He wanted to get up, storm to the door, throw it open, cuss them a new one until giggles turned into sobs. He thought about it, wished for it, urged his body to move. His mind drifted, hazing, and his desire became a dream, over and over, when he heard another thump and his eyes snapped open.

" No one's ho-ome!" a voice simpered, laughing, mocking, too happy, too sure. Cold crept like droplets of ice down Danny's spine, increasing the cold until he shivered. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, curling into it until he was cocooned. It didn't help, and he could have sworn the cold was radiating from his insides. The laughter beyond his door turned shrill and wild. He heard someone yell shut up, which only encouraged the laughter.

Danny hated to admit it, but it was scaring the hell out of him. All his urging, pleading, and screaming at his body to get up and get rid of the situation did nothing but produce the beginnings of dreams. He pulled his arms beneath him, laying his hands flat, and tried to push himself up. He could move his arms just fine, but pushing was beyond his means when his arms shook without actually accomplishing anything. Danny coughed, wincing and groaning from the pain.

" You hear something?" male, giggly as the girls, asked. Danny held his breath, listening, but heard only more laughter.

This was getting too freaky, and as much as it pissed him off to admit it, if things turned even more freaky or just plain ugly, he was screwed. He had no strength – period. He was officially, undeniable, wiped out, and couldn't recall a single time in his life when he'd felt so weak.

But it wasn't like he was without options. His arms still had the power to move. So he reached out with an unsteady hand to the small desk beside his bed, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the top drawer. It took way more effort than it should have opening it up, and even more effort to reach inside, wrap his fingers around the butt of his gun, and carry it from the drawer to slip beneath his pillow, barrel facing away – he wasn't stupid to just stick it haphazardly beneath his head. Sleeping with a gun beneath his pillow wasn't a first for him, just a habit he'd been trying to break. Today, he didn't care about habits, he just wanted to be ready, just in case.

He couldn't close the drawer, didn't even try. He simply pulled his arm back beneath the covers and curled even tighter into himself, still shivering as laughter ricocheted through his skull, every sound jolting his heart, just lacking the power to wake him.

NY

6:00 am...

Mac circled the body by taking methodical, thought out steps that kept him from treading on anything he would regret later. It was like prowling after the fact, with the kill already killed, so nothing to pounce. It was actually a comforting thing being able to always be ruled out as the predator, and he had to smirk in consideration that he was more like the vulture, ready to pick the meat apart.

Actually, the meat picking was Hammerback's forte, gruesome as the rumination was. Mac just picked at everything else.

The body, sprawled on the dusty floor of a vacant warehouse with condemned tagged all over it, looked to be about six foot, a hundred and ninety, maybe two hundred pounds, late thirties with short brown hair receding a bit from the forehead and thin at the top. The wound looked to be a shot to the back and a through and through with blood pooling beneath in an almost perfect circle. Time of death, actual cause – that was for the real 'vulture' to determine. Hammerback was going to just _love_ that little analogy.

In terms of getting a real kick out of it, Mac knew Hawkes would. And speaking of the former mortician, Mac glanced up in time to see him heading Mac's way, kit in hand, being trailed by Lindsey trying to stifle a yawn. Mac nodded a greeting to both.

" Sorry to have called you in so early," he said.

Hawkes stopped four feet from the body and set his kit down. " Early? You call this early?" He smirked. " I call this sleeping in."

Lindsey set down her own kit to rummage through it for some gloves. " I call this hell after only four hours sleep. But, hey, it pays so no real complaints here."

Mac smiled. " Glad to hear it. Stella's already handled the photos. I need you two to spread out. It's a big warehouse, lots of junk, and there's good reason to believe it was being used for more than just dumping unwanted crap."

The two CSIs snapped on their gloves while taking in the massive room. Old car parts and carcasses of decrepit furniture littered the floor along the walls and piled in the corners. The only seeming semblance of order was a table seven feet from the victim, three chairs, a brief case, and water-stained box full of papers, and an empty glass ashtray on the table. Stella was crouched before the briefcase, snapping more photos. Detective Flack stood off to the side, observing and waiting.

It would have been a nice 'gangs all here' type of situation if one Danny Messer wasn't out sick – still, for the fourth day counting when he cut work early to head home. Mac was starting to get a little anxious for the younger man. Danny had made good on his promise about calling to say he wasn't going to make it in. The voice message he'd left behind only an hour ago had Mac concerned.

_Hey, Mac? It's Messer. Not gonna be making it in today. Um... what the hell time is it? Ah crap! Five in the... crap, I'm so sorry, Mac, I thought... It was... later. I gotta... go. I am so freakin' tired. Sorry man..._

Danny's voice – exhausted, weak, and hoarse – hadn't been easy to hear. Mac had had to listen to the message five times until deciphered, and even after hearing the message it took a moment for Mac to realize that it had been Danny. And then Mac was called in to the scene now surrounding him. Between observations of the room, he contemplated stopping by Danny's for a quick check on his absent CSI.

" Hey, Mac?" said the always polite voice of Lindsey. He turned to see her standing behind him, twining her hands together and pulling them apart in fidgeting unease. When she had Mac's attention, she dropped her hands to her sides. But the unease she couldn't mask, and wasn't even trying.

" Yeah?" Mac said.

" Um... You haven't heard anything from Danny lately, have you? I haven't, and that's why I'm wondering. I mean I was the one who had to escort him to a cab. I thought about calling to see how he was, but didn't want to wake him if he was taking a nap or anything. He wasn't looking too good that day..."

Mac smiled at her, mostly in understanding, but also a little in humor at her show of concern for a guy who normally didn't have to put up much effort to get on her nerves.

" Actually he left me a message this morning." Mac's smile faded a little. " Didn't sound all that great. Still sick and probably hitting the peak of it."

Lindsey's face screwed into a small grimace. " For this long?"

Mac shrugged. " Could go longer."

" Not that I'm volunteering to play nurse or anything – and please don't tell Danny I said that – But he should really have someone stopping by to help him out, like his parents or something."

Mac couldn't help himself. " Sure you're not volunteering?" Monroe and Messer's acquaintanceship might have started off rocky thanks to Danny's inability to refrain from a good prank, but the two had hit it off without actually seeming to realize it eventually.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes. " Extremely sure - nothing against Danny. I refuse to suffer through whatever he's got. It's just that it's never a good idea to be an invalid and alone. Especially with the way flus can get – not that I think Danny'll die from it or anything. I was just wondering if – you know – anyone was helping him out."

Mac clicked his tongue. " You have a point, but you also know Danny. The flaw of an independent streak is never thinking to ask for help. I was thinking of dropping by at some time, probably during lunch, to check on him. You could come with me."

Lindsey scrunched her nose. " Um, you know what? That's okay. You can just give me the gist of it. Like I said, I refuse to suffer through what he has. Besides, he might not be up to having too many visitors."

" Probably," Mac replied. Lindsey nodded and moved over to the table, kneeling for a closer look at the ash tray before lifting it.

NY

Sheldon Hawkes tried to keep up the facade that he hadn't been listening. Problem was, there were more important matters than maintaining his reputation as someone who didn't ease drop. Worry over Danny was probably universal, but identical only to a certain extent. Lindsey's worry was more common, stemming from lack of news. Sheldon's concern ran a little deeper, a little more medical. Even something as simple as the flu could be nasty, and there had been something about Danny's condition, something Sheldon had yet to place a name to, that was pulling at him, and it was centered around him catching Danny tossing out most of his lunch the day he'd gone home.

Sheldon continued his little act long enough to swab some sort of substance several feet from the body that had left a small trail coming either toward the vic or from. He placed the swab in the capsule, in his kit, then rose from his crouch to head over to Mac, already cringing about his admittance to something he normally didn't do.

" Uh, hey Mac," he said, grabbing the older man's attention. Mac looked up at him.

" Yeah?"

" I, uh... kind of – overheard – you saying that you were heading over to Danny's? I was thinking about doing the same thing myself, and was wondering if it would be cool if I tagged along."

" For medical insight?" Mac asked.

" Something like that. Just to make sure this thing isn't too nasty, you know?"

Mac knelt beside the body across from the former coroner. " Actually, that wouldn't be a bad idea. If this thing is worse than he realizes, he'd probably take you more seriously on it than me."

Sheldon felt the muscles of his shoulders unknot without realizing they'd even been tensed. " Yeah, exactly." He went back to the substance smeared on the floor, rather black, a little wet, like oil or moistened soot, a chemical analysis would tell. He took another swab of the stuff to bring to his nose, and on sniffing scented the dizzying pungency of oil.

Sporadic ringing resounded sharp through the warehouse. Hawkes glanced over his shoulder to see Mac flipping his phone open to speak. He said a few words, flipped the phone close, and already started heading for the door.

" Stella, I got another call in. Can you handle things here?"

" Sure thing, Mac," Stella replied while flashing more pictures.

NY

From the dusky safety of the alley across the street, Byron narrowed his eyes at the man jumping into the black truck and pulling away. It was a sudden departure Byron hadn't been expecting. The mess in the warehouse should have kept the whole group in the building for at least an hour, maybe more, but an hour at most. On the plus side, the man hadn't been carrying anything with him. He was off on some other mission, errand, or whatever. So the ones that mattered were the ones still cooped up in that glorified trash bin.

When the truck pulled from the curb, Byron stepped back a little ways, deeper where the light was at its dimmest in the alley. African American male, age approximately thirty-eight, six foot, bald, two hundred pounds was not a pleasant thing to hear over the squawk-box police scanner Elliot kept in the van.

Speaking of the van, Byron heard the tell-tale crunch of asphalt from the street on the other side of the alley. He turned, and walked casually to that other side where the rust-red van waited. Elliot was in the driver's seat, and lifted his head in acknowledgment when Byron approached. Elliot – out of all the white boys Byron felt forced to work with – was the only Caucasian he didn't mind giving the title of business partner to. The man was medium height, heavily built, with blond hair cropped close to the scalp, and a clean-shaven face. He was soft-spoken by nature, hardly ever said a word, and that's how Byron liked it, because everyone else didn't know how or when to shut up.

As if on cue, the moment Byron yanked the door open and hopped in, Mitchel started up.

" What the hell is going on, Byron?" he tried to demand, but it came out sounding like a seven year old asking if they were there yet. Byron didn't give the man the benefit of eye contact. He just pointed forward.

" Park near enough to the place to keep it in sight, but to keep us out of sight. Cool?"

Elliot nodded.

" Byron!"

Byron rolled his eyes up to the rear-view mirror. Mitchel was leaning forward, one hand on his knee, the other clasping the shoulder of Kevin. Byron closed his eyes in silent frustration. Mitchell played at having brains, but he was nothing more than a glorified bouncer with a head too hot for rational thought. He was the muscle, that was all, but couldn't get that through his head. Tall as Byron, with dark hair slicked back, sharp features, and gray-blue eyes always scowling. Mitchell, as of late, had become the bane to Byron's existence, and the kink in his operations, all because the man thought himself more than what he was.

Beside Mitchell, Kevin – the youngest – was squirming. The kid was twenty-five, shorter than Mitchell, and only slightly smarter. He was wiry, sporting sandy spiked hair and a goatee. He might have had the obedience of a dog, but more like those little yappy dogs that go off at everything. The kid was too jumpy, and had the bad luck of believing anything anyone had to tell him, including Mitchell.

Elliot pulled a U-turn to head into the alley down from the one Byron had hidden in. Dark, away from the warehouse, but still with the warehouse in sight. Byron smiled, clasping Elliot on the shoulder.

" Good, this is good."

" Byron!"

Byron finally turned, narrowing his eyes and staring Mitchell down to the size of an insect.

" Can it, Mitch. We had a mishap, all right? Jack screwed us, that's all you need to know. Now we've got us a problem, and I need you to shut up and keep a listen on the box, see what might come up. In the meantime, we're going to watch that building, see what they take out, wait for the right time when we can get in. Got it? Because that's all I'm going to tell you for now. The rest comes when it's important, and not until then."

Mitchell was about to protest, wanted to, but clapped his mouth shut when Byron lowered his eyelids.

Byron smiled. " Good boy." He then turned to watch the warehouse, pulling out binoculars from the seat pocket for a better view, flicking his tonger over his lips, and picturing Jack's squirming body as he roasted in hell.

NY

A/N: What is going on, you ask? Patience, I say, for all will be revealed. Plus more gross Danny coughing up phlegm moments. Yum.


	3. Worry to Complications

A/N: The reviews have motivated me. I was very tempted to drop this story, but since I've actually have yet to that with any story and so many are into this story, I'll keep it up and continue. But don't be surprised if updates take longer. There's a lot I have to add and clean up. It's not a very long story as compared to my others, but it is rather complicated and I've hit a couple of snags. So have patience.

Ch. 3

Worry to Complications

7:00 am

The most torturous sound ever to be invented was the pulsating screech of an alarm clock. It ripped Danny from the blissful, numbing darkness he'd kept himself floating in; an in between place where pain was little more than an itch in no hurry to be scratched. Being snapped from that darkness actually hurt. His skull felt like someone had stabbed a wedge into in, and kept on hammering away, trying to split the bone in two. Then there was the thickly accumulated congestion sitting solidified at the bottom of his lungs. He erupted into a coughing fit that had his body convulsing and his chest possibly being torn apart, or at least feeling as much. His lungs constricted until no air was left. He tried to pull air in, except that his lungs wouldn't let him, as though they'd shrunk or shriveled ten times less normal capacity. He began to panic, his heart rising in speed and force that could have broken a rib.

Finally, air rasped down his trachea, enough for another couple of coughs to expel more of the gunk until more air could be drawn. He panted, coughed more, panted some more with body shuddering, and nearly drifted back into oblivion. Except that he had a reason for being torn from it to begin with.

He had a doctor's appointment at eight, and he needed to get ready for it. If he could move. He had to concentrate on commanding his led-like arm from beneath the blanket to rub his face. He didn't so much rub as drop his shaking hand onto the side of his face to let it slip off onto the mattress.

_Now on to the rest of me_. He groaned at the prospect of motion. His whole skeleton might as well have been literally led-based. He rolled onto his sore chest to attempt pushing himself up with his unsteady arms, and his back rebelled against the movement. He probably rose no more than an inch when he dropped back down, panting and coughing. He squinted at the digital clock reading seven ten. It had taken him ten minutes just to wake up.

He tried a different tactic for getting out of bed. He pulled himself to the edge, proving to be just as much of a work-out leaving him breathless, but at least it got him somewhere. He was able to slide his feet from the covers to the floor, then let the rest of himself slide from the bed to follow, and would have crumpled to the floor if he hadn't been clinging to the sheets. He continued to hold on, even tried to pull himself up, and couldn't get his chest passed the mattress before slumping back to the floor, breathing hard.

_Okay, this is weird. _

He took a moment to catch his breath and tried again, grunting and even sweating with the effort. All it got him was another small drop to the floor and a wheezing excuse for a cuss-word.

_Okay, this is bad. _It was time to face facts. He needed help. He leaned to the side and reached out with a trembling hand to the cell on the nightstand. He grabbed it, and turned to lean his shoulder and upturned legs against the bed in a shivering huddle, cussing at himself for not turning the heat up to a better degree. Except that he vaguely recalled wanting the heat turned down at some point in time during his illness.

_This is freakin' messed up._

He sifted through the names and numbers programmed into the phone. He could have called his parents, but they lived too far away to make it in time. He needed to contact someone close by, and at this hour there was only one group that fit the bill – that is, if they were even at the lab. Danny's mind went automatically to Mac, but trepidation reined him back. If his boss was busy on a case... But then again he could send someone else... Unless they were busy...

It didn't feel right calling someone for a ride to a stupid doctor's appointment during the work hours.

Danny would have laughed if he hadn't known better. He was stuck on the floor, unable to stand, freezing his butt off, and he was worried about cutting into people's work time. There was something seriously wrong, and he would admit that. Too scared not to. He'd had his share of flus, colds, the chicken pox, strep throat and then some, and none of it had ever hit him this hard before. Not a good time to be giving into machoism.

Danny hit the number to dial Mac.

A few rings later, the click of an answered phone sounded.

" Taylor."

Danny let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He coughed once to clear his throat, only to end up coughing a few more times before he could speak. " Hey, Mac? It's Danny."

" Thought as much when I heard the coughing. You don't sound any better. What's going on?"

Danny was shivering hard. He huddled tighter to conserve warmth, and tensed his muscles enough to keep that same trembling from reaching his voice.

" I-I-I n-need a ride." So much for the attempt. " T-to the doctors. I-I got an appointment today in an hour. B-but I'm having a l-little trouble getting around, you know? S-sure as hell c-can't take the subway."

" Yeah, yeah that's fine Danny. Listen, Sheldon and Lindsey are at a scene not too far from where you live. I'll see if they can't stop by. If not I'll come get you myself, all right?"

Mac sounded worried. The man was king of self-control, so when emotions slipped, though the self-control remained dominant, it was easy catch the subtle alteration of tenor in his voice.

" Y-yeah. That's cool Mac. T-thanks. And – and I'm r-really sorry 'bout this..."

" Danny, don't be. Being sick isn't exactly something you plan for. Evidence can wait, you can't. So just hold on for a little while. Someone'll be coming for you soon."

Danny nodded despite knowing Mac wouldn't see it. " Yeah Mac. Hangin' on." Danny then hung up when the phone nearly slipped from his uncooperative fingers. He raised his arm to drop the phone on the bed within reach, then gathered a handful of blanket in another go at trying to pull himself back up.

This time around, he couldn't even pull the blanket, or move his arm from the bed. Every act, from opening his eyes to making the call, had massively depleted him. He dropped his head against the bed, closing his eyes, and wishing like hell he'd gotten a drink of water first, because his mouth could have given the Sahara desert a run for its money.

NY

Danny's timing had been impeccable. Mac was already outside and heading to the parking lot when he disconnected with Danny. He continued to walk as he hit Hawkes' number. The former coroner was quick to pick up.

" Hawkes."

" Sheldon, it's Mac. I've got a favor. Seems a visit to Danny's place needs to be made sooner than we thought. He's got an appointment, needs a ride, and frankly he's got me a little extra worried than before."

" Yeah, how so?"

" His voice. Not only could I barely hear it, but it sounded like he was cold, and I swear I heard his teeth chattering. Maybe I'm overreacting, maybe not. Better to play it safe, and since you're closer to his place I was wondering if you could provide him the ride. Stella can keep the scene warm."

" Yeah, no problem. The body's already on it's way to the morgue and me and Lindsey were going to head back anyways to start processing some of what we found."

" Good, I appreciate this. Call me as soon as you can, let me know how he's doing?"

" No problem. Bye."

" Bye."

They disconnected just as Mac reached the truck and slid in. Tension eased from him, but not enough for his liking. Besides proximity, Hawkes' medical expertise made him the logical choice to be Danny's ride. Concern, however, kept nagging for Mac to be the one to go. It was a basic, almost fatherly worry fueling the need for physical proof of Danny being taken to the doctor's and walking through the clinic doors. Then there was the guilt of having seen signs of Danny's decline toward ill health, and not saying anything knowing that Danny would deny it. Mac couldn't quite recall when he'd first taken notice, or if he had even considered it ill health or something else entirely. Though it was redundant to think, Mac thought it all the same – life was playing havoc on Danny; heart, soul, mind and now – obviously – body. The Menhaus fiasco and fairly recently what happened to his brother, Mac's suspicions had been leaning toward possible stress, even depression. The young CSI just seemed so... _subdued_. Had been for the past couple of days way before his fever hit. And Mac could have sworn the kid was looking thinner.

Stress probably was a factor. After all, Louie was still in a coma, and though Danny had been cleared of having had anything to to with that Tanglewood mess, IAB had been haunting Mac's phone, asking too many questions, pushing too many hints. Mac also had the suspicion Danny was getting a few calls from them as well.

Poor kid couldn't cut a break. Mac had given him some time off after his brother was landed in the hospital. He considered doing it again, convincing Danny – maybe – to stay with his folks or head out of the city, give him more of a chance to clear his head and give his body a real opportunity to rest.

Mac thought all this as he pulled from the parking lot. The desire to be Danny's ride kept up it's pull, growing, steering Mac toward giving in. He could ignore it, but knew there'd be no getting rid of it until the call came, telling him Danny had gone to the doctor, came back, and only had the flu.

NY

Byron squinted through the binoculars.

" Byron, come on man, what's the freakin plan?" Mitchell attempted to demand only to end up whining. Byron had tuned the man's voice out until it became nothing more than white noise.

The plan? What plan? Byron had no real plan except getting to know a little about these people poking around the junk-heaps of the warehouse, doing who knew what to the now removed body. There was no formal plan, but there was the workings of one. This wasn't the first time Byron was denied access to a place due to some sort of human security or the presence of law enforcement. However, today wasn't about access to a place, but to a particular item, which was hidden somewhere in the stuff still in that warehouse, or maybe in that briefcase the black man with the young woman was carrying out to the car – or the box apparently still inside. Byron wasn't sure. He'd never been given time to look. Jack had called nine-one-one at a time that had the police sirens wailing closer and closer moments after Byron had busted a cap in the man's back. He'd had time to cover his tracks, with few tracks to cover, just not enough time to look for what Jack had taken. SOB.

" Byron. We just gonna sit here all day and..."

Byron lowered the binoculars. " Mitchell, shut up or I'll personally remove your tongue. I need a moment to think. Elliot? They pull out, you follow them, but keep a good distance."

Mitchell snorted. " That's your freakin' plan? follow 'em? You already know where they're goin."

The truck pulled from the curb. Elliot waited to the count of ten, and pulled out of the alley. Byron settled back against the seat, watching the truck head up the street.

" True. Just want to find a good spot to park so we can wait 'em out."

" Why?"

Byron fell silent. Mitchell pushed for control of the situation, and Byron had to keep reminding him who was in _real_ control. Mitchell could prod and whine until judgment day and never get a word out of Byron until Byron was good and ready. Sort of like employing a choke-chain on a dog. And if that dog still didn't obey, then it was time to up to a shock collar – i.e. knocking Mitchell into next month. Byron even had an honest to goodness tazer if fisted violence didn't pan out.

Byron's plan, thus far, involved consideration of using one of these lab techs as a means of getting into that lab or on the scene to grab what was rightfully his. Not get him in personally, just utilize them in some way. It was the 'getting them' part he hadn't figured yet. But he had time. He knew he did. Despite Jack's back-stabbing ways, Byron had to admit the man hadn't been an idiot. He had led Byron into that little trap. Except Byron – to his credit – was a freakin' genius, and always at least one step ahead of everyone.

The needed item wouldn't be found, not for a while and not by these people since they didn't know what to look for. So time was on Byron's side to plan, prepare and act. One does not become a professional thief by jumping the gun on everything. Too bad Mitchell had yet to get that driven home into his thick skull.

Oh well.

Byron squinted at the black truck, tilting his head to one side.

" This ain't the way they're suppose to go," he murmured. An aspect to all his plans centered around knowing the location of the police station, fire station, and even the local crime labs. 'Know thy enemy' always rang true, for anywhere and anything.

" What!" Mitchell all but squealed. " What the hell do you mean..."

" Mitch-ell," Byron drawled dangerously, drawing the man's name out like a father reprimanding a child. " Can it! Probably taking a detour. Might come in handy."

One street after another, easy to move through since it was too early for heavier traffic. They entered an apartment neighborhood offset by a few shops here and there, all within walking distance. The truck pulled up to a brown-bricked complex with two stoops and the kind of doors you could just walk through rather than being buzzed in. An old fashioned kind of place not to have that kind of security, but Byron knew buildings, and though this one was open to the public during the day, it would be locked down tight with a good security system at night, with the doors only accessible to the residents through an electronic key or key-card.

The two CSIs got out of the car and headed to the right hand stoop. Byron leaned in a little toward Elliot. " Follow 'em. See what's up."

Elliot nodded without question. He hopped from the car, and Byron took the driver's seat in case a quick exit was in order. Elliot went casually, letting the man and woman go in first. Yet at the same time he walked in long strides to keep the two in sight.

Byron began drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

" Byron?" Mitchell said between gritted teeth.

" Just be patient," Byron snapped. " And think to yourself 'has there ever been a time when Byron Murdo ever steered you wrong?' Think about it carefully, Mitch, along with recalling the many times you've doubted me, and the results that followed."

Mitchell said nothing more, and wouldn't for another twenty minutes until his never quieting paranoia overcame his fear. Byron smiled.

A few minutes later, five, maybe more, his cell rang. He snatched it from his pocket and flipped it open.

" Elliot?" he said. " Good news I hope?"

" Very. Get up here fast. You're not going to believe this."

Byron's smile got even bigger.

NY

The elevator hadn't moved fast enough, and neither had Sheldon's legs, so he was actually a little out of breath on reaching Danny's door. Not that he was an out of shape guy – he tried to be far from it, in fact – but worry combined with rushing tended to have the lungs working a little harder.

Lindsey was proof of that as she was also breathing with more effort.

" Danny needing a ride isn't necessarily a bad sign, right?" she asked Hawkes after he knocked.

" In my experience? I have no idea. Now, one thing I do know – if Mac's worried, then we need to worry. And he sounded worried."

Lindsey bit her lip, looking the door up and down as though trying to find another way to open it. Sheldon inwardly winced. He was an honest guy, liked to be straight forward, but tended to forget that in some situations it wasn't always wise to have such a trait. Not that he should have lied or anything, just offered up something more positive. But it wasn't too late.

" But I'm probably jumping to conclusions. Danny's a smart guy, knows better than to drive with a head too congested to think straight." Sheldon knocked again, louder this time.

" But he's also stubborn and might be playing down whatever he's got."

Now Lindsey was being the brutally honest one. Sheldon grimaced. " Damned if you're not right." He knocked a third time, even harder. " Danny, you in there! It's Sheldon and Lindsey."

No answer. Hawkes tried the door knob. He turned, it gave, and the door opened. Sheldon flinched at that.

" Oohhh, that can't be good," he mumbled. He stepped gingerly in, feeling horribly intrusive and inching toward panic. Inside the place was barely lit and heavy in blue-gray shadows. To the left was the kitchen with its foldable plastic table, to the right the single couch, TV on a stand with movies housed underneath, and an old black trunk that made up Danny's coffee table. There was also a book-shelf of books, magazines, and a few knick-knacks, baseball paraphernalia for the most part, some photos of family, a bronze statue of a bucking horse, and another of a spread-winged eagle.

" Danny?" Sheldon called. He glanced over his shoulder at Lindsey, who shrugged. They saw his bag on the floor, coat on the chair, and keys on the table. They moved slowly through the place to the small hallway. On the right was an open door leading to a room that looked to be what Danny used as a personal office. To the left, by the narrow size of the door, probably a closet. That left the partially open door before them. Sheldon reached out and pushed it open the rest of the way.

Danny was on the floor, huddled tight, leaning against the side of the bed with his head down resting on his drawn up knees, and arms hugging himself. Panic snapped, but did only to clear Sheldon's mind rather than fog it. He hurried over to Danny, dropping to his knees beside him, with Lindsey crouching before Danny.

" Danny!" Sheldon called, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. Danny was shivering. Sheldon shook him, then scooted sideways, leaning in close to Danny's head. With one hand, he began to smooth back Danny's hair. The other he kept raised at the ready. When Danny lifted his heavy head at the contact, Sheldon slipped his hand below Danny's jaw to help raise his head further and turn it enough for Sheldon to get a look at him.

A chunk of ice seemed to drop into the pit of Sheldon's stomach. " Aw, man, Danny," he breathed.

Danny's face was white, almost gray, sunken eyed and hallow cheeked. Heat rolled from his sweat-soaked head, but it was a heat he must not have felt from the way he was trembling. The man's eyes were barely open, nothing more than slits reflecting the weak light of the room.

" Danny? Can you hear me?" Sheldon asked. Danny blinked a few times and creased his brow.

" H-Hawkes?" came the whispered, croaked reply. " H-Hey H-Hawkes."

Sheldon gently lowered Danny's head to rest against the side of the bed, and to his relief it stayed there. Danny took a deep breath as though readying a sigh, only to start coughing violently into the comforter. Lindsey leaned forward to put one hand on his shoulder and use the other to run down the back of Danny's head.

" It's okay, Danny, we're right here," she said. Her voice was steady, but her face screamed of a worry going hand in hand with fear.

Sheldon scooted the other way and around to be at Danny's curved back. He placed his ear against Danny, listening to his breaths, then his coughs when they came.

Sheldon wasn't going to lie to himself – it sounded bad. Sheldon was officially alarmed, but not just because of the massive congestive build-up causing Danny's inhales and exhales to sound like they were passing through liquid. Sheldon lifted his ear away to study Danny's back, even placing his hand on it. Through the shirt Sheldon could see – and feel – Danny's ribs with a clarity the former coroner didn't like. Granted, Danny was a lean guy, the kind of lean that had his ribs showing off and on. But this was different, sharper – ribs and backbone. And how long had he been sick?

" Danny?" Hawkes said. " Hey Danny?"

Danny coughed. " Yeah?" he moaned.

" How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"

Danny's shoulder lifted in a weak, shakey shrug. " I dunno. I – I t-tried to have some soup when I got home..."

Hawkes pulled the blue comforter from the bed and wrapped it around Danny's quaking frame.

" B-but I... um... puked it up."

" Have you had anything since then?" Sheldon asked, rubbing Danny's back to get some warmth going.

Danny coughed and sucked in a rasping breath. " No. Couldn't really move. Haven't had much of an appetite lately. Guess I know why now."

Sheldon recalled Danny throwing away half his lunch, and tensed.

" Crap," he hissed, and immediately rose from the floor, pulling out his cell to dial 911. Lindsey watched him nervously.

" What are you doing? What's going on?" She asked.

Sheldon quickly explained. " Danny's congestion's bad, he's malnourished - we need to get him into an ambulance, _now_."

At this, Danny's head shot up. " No! No. N-not an ambulance. I-I hate those. T-they strip you. I don't want 'em strippin' me."

" Danny, you don't have a choice. Part of the reason you can't move is because you're half-starved. You need help and you need help now."

Danny cringed and dropped his head against the bed in defeat. Curiosity flitted into Sheldon's mind concerning the reason behind this odd phobia, but no time to indulge in it now. As he rattled off the address to the dispatcher, making sure to mention he was with the NYC crime lab since it sometimes made a difference (Sheldon wasn't quite sure how as of yet, just knew it from what he'd heard), he headed to the door to wait outside and lead the way.

On heading out of the hallway, he stopped, frozen, heart stuttering in its beat.

Four men in ski-masks were spread throughout the kitchen and living room, with the tallest standing before the still-open door. He smiled and nodded to Hawkes.

" What's up, my man?" and he winked.

NY

A/N: The cliffhanger was inevitable, please refrain from torching me because of it.


	4. Complication to Fear

A/N: Sorry for taking so long on the updates, but I've hit a few snags that I've recently come across and I'm still trying to fix them. If I'm not able to, I may have to take this story down for a complete overhaul. But don't worry, I will get this story completed.

Ch. 4

Complication to Fear

_Oh what the hell now?_ Sheldon internally moaned. Confusion was his dominant reaction, seconded by fear-born wariness. The spread positions of the four men brought to Sheldon's mind the idea of a stand-off, which probably wasn't too far from being a fact. After the tall man's greeting, no one had so much as blinked. It wasn't a face-off to see who drew first, but more like a competition of wills.

For Sheldon, it was more that he was reeling in surprise, unable to form coherent thought right off. He looked from each man, returning his gaze to who he assumed to be the leader seeing as how he'd been the first to speak.

" Um..." Sheldon said, just to break the silence and force his mind to work. And work it did, shooting off to thoughts of Tanglewood boys and their association with Danny. " Who are you? If you're looking for Danny, he's not here..."

" Not acquainted with any Danny," the tall man in the blue mask replied. From his voice, and the skin made visible by the holes of the mask, the man was clearly African American. Leader reached out behind himself to swing the door closed. " I'm here to talk to you." He lifted his hand, and twisted the bolt, locking the door.

NY

Lindsey adjusted the blanket so that it was wrapped all the way around Danny, cocooning him in, but he just kept on shivering while his forehead oozed heat. Fevers were funny that way. They burned bodies from the inside out, and half the time the one being burned wasn't aware since they were too busy freezing. Lindsey gave it, at most, twenty minutes to a half-an hour before Danny was struggling to get the blanket off, feeling the burn he'd been unconscious of moments before.

As Lindsey continued her fiddling with the blanket, making sure it stayed put, she studied Danny's colorless face and the vacant, glassy eyes staring at nothing. The word listless came to mind, but it wasn't a strong enough word. 'Dead' was more appropriate, but harsh, and it made Lindsey's flesh crawl. Had it not been for his heavy, noisy breathing and the occasional blink of his eyes, it would have been quite easy to assume him dead were someone to walk in on them now. Lindsey finished with the blanket and returned to stroking Danny's hair in a gesture of comfort, and on the first stroke Lindsey's hand came away wet.

It didn't seem natural for a body to sweat out so much moisture. And with that thought came the sudden, alarming realization of what else his poor body was probably lacking.

Lindsey's eyes rounded over. " Oh crap, Danny, I'm so sorry. You need water. I'll – I'll get you some water..." She made to rise when she heard the soft whisper of Danny's voice, so she paused in a crouch to lean forward toward his face.

" What?"

" Night stand," he breathed, then coughed, turning away so it wouldn't hit her in the face. Lindsey look up to see a small, sky-blue plastic pitcher on the nightstand next to the lamp, and a half-empty glass. She moved around Danny, grabbed both, and went back to him while pouring.

" Can you lift your head?" she asked.

Danny did so with a lot of effort and a slight grimace. Lindsey kept one hand on the side of Danny's head to steady him as she lifted the glass to his mouth and gently tilted it. He took small sips until he started coughing, spraying water from both his mouth and the glass. Lindsey set the glass behind her to reach around Danny and pat him heavily on the back to help in clearing the airway.

" Th-thanks," he wheezed.

Lindsey smiled. " Can't have you choking to death since we came all this way to save your life. You know, you might be able to breathe easier if you sat up straighter. Here, turn with your back to the bed..."

She helped Danny roll, then scoot until he was facing forward with the bed behind him to lean against. He slouched, shoulders sagging, but was free from the tight huddle.

" Better?" Lindsey asked.

" Little," Danny replied, and swallowed with a wince, the blanket loosening then falling open when he moved his hand up to rub his chest. " R-ribs hurt."

Lindsey closed the blanket back up. " Yeah, I imagine they would with all the coughing you went through. Maybe the paramedics will give you something for that."

Speaking of which, she looked to the door and watched. A low murmur of conversation drifted toward them, too low for Lindsey to hear. Logically, since Sheldon had called only a minute ago, it wasn't the paramedics she was hearing. Probably more like a nosy neighbor, butting in, stalling Sheldon from heading to the ground floor to await the ambulance's arrival. She contemplated aiding Sheldon in driving whoever it was off. In fact, she was getting antsy about doing so when the voices rose a little in volume – still not enough to be heard. Of Lindsey's pet peeves – Wanna-be good Samaritans ranked with people assuming all the time that she was from Kansas, and thus calling her Dorothy (which was why she tended to put up with Danny's Montana nickname. At least he got it right). People assuming themselves to be in the right and too stubborn to realize otherwise always – one hundred percent all the time – made a bad situation worse. And if the paramedics couldn't get here in time because someone wanted answers to something that was none of their business...

Lindsey clasped Danny's shoulder through the blanket. " I'm just going to see what's going on, all right?" she said. Danny nodded, barely, which was all he seemed capable of doing. Giving him another once-over, Lindsey was reluctant to leave. Wanna-be Samaritan was going to pay if something happened the few minutes she was gone.

She tensed in ready to rise, was even leaning forward to roll onto her feet, when a tall man in a blue ski-mask walked in, dressed in a black coat, dark jeans, and heavy boots. Another man, also wearing a ski-mask but red, followed, his coat tan, underneath which he wore an open plaid shirt and a gray T-shirt. From the holes showing hints of skin, one man was black, the other white. The two stared down at Lindsey and Danny, eyes flicking from one to the other, but mostly lingering on Danny. The black man pointed a gloved finger at the male CSI.

" That the dude you said had something wrong with him?"

White guy nodded. Lindsey looked over at Danny, shocked, suddenly scared. Danny was looking up at the two men, bewildered, even a little nervous.

" Th-they the paramedics?" he whispered. In the silence, the two men caught the words, because the black man smiled.

" No, kid. We aren't the paramedics." He then stepped forward and crouched in front of Danny, studying him as though assessing him like he were a piece of meat. Danny simply met the guy's gaze without blinking, assessing in return as much as his congested brain would allow.

" Wh-who the h-hell are you?" Danny rasped, breathing fast. " G-get the h-ell out of my p-place."

This only made the black man's smile widen, amused. " I like your fire, kid," he said. He placed his hand on Danny's forehead, moved it around his face, and no matter how Danny tried to flinch back, tilting his head away, the man's hand moved with him.

" Don't freakin' touch me!" Danny growled then coughed, hard. The man pulled his hand away to drape it over his knee, and chuckled.

" Kid, hate to point it out to you, but you have about as much threat potential as a flea. I'd relax if I were you. Can't be healthy stressing out like that, not when you can't do a damn thing about it." The black man glanced over his shoulder to the door. " Bring him in!"

Footsteps, then Sheldon was shoved into the room with two more masked men hovering at the threshold behind him. The black man shifted to the side, turning partially to have the tense Sheldon within his sights. Suddenly, his hand shot out to grab Danny by the hair and pull his head back. Danny gasped, arching his back with shaking hands ripping from the blanket to weakly grab the black man's wrist. He cried out in pain as the man kept pulling, nearly bending Danny's neck in half.

Lindsey's heart slammed hard enough to shatter, then almost stopped entirely when the man whipped out a gun to press it against the side of Danny's head.

" What are you doing! Leave him alone, you're hurting him!" she screamed. She then felt a painful vice grip on her arm, and the cold steel of a gun at the back of her own head.

" Can it," a voice snarled behind her. She rolled her eyes to Hawkes. The former coroner was rigid, and met Lindsey's gaze in a silent exchange of terror. They then both looked back at Danny and the man pushing the gun harder against his skull.

" Now that we got everyone's attention," he said, " time to get some things out in the open." He nodded his chin at Sheldon. " Like your name, for starters. We'll make it an exchange. Your name, for your friends well being. How about that?"

Danny starting coughing, then choking, sucking in air that sounded as though it were shredding his throat.

Sheldon swallowed hard. " Hawkes, Hawkes, you can... call me Hawkes."

The black masked man released Danny's head. The gun, however, remained pressed to him. " Good man, Hawkes. Think your buddy here appreciates it." He clasped Danny's shoulder, making Danny jerk.

" Plus, just for that, you can call me... Ron, just to take away a little awkwardness between us." 'Ron' (fake name, no question in Lindsey's mind) shifted himself so that he was sitting comfortably on the floor beside Danny. Then, to Lindsey's disgust, the man switched the gun into his other hand to place his arm around Danny's shoulders. Danny cringed, and the look on his face had Lindsey momentarily afraid that he might actually try to kill the guy.

" Now, seeing as how your buddy here is in need of some serious medical attention, I won't tip-toe around this. I need your help. Or, more accurately, I need your cooperation. Your law enforcement pals have something of mine that I'd really like back, and you're gonna be the one to get it for me. It's real simple, Hawkes, You get this item for me, we leave, and you're free to help your friend all you want. Fair enough I'd say. And here's how it's going to go down. Me an' you are going to drive on over to that warehouse you just left. I'll tell you what to look for when we get there, you go in, get it, we come back, and we're done. If it's not there, then it's off to your little Frankenstein lab, and you'd better hope someone brought it in, because if it's not there either than me and you are going to have some issues. Now, you're probably thinking 'but I can just go in and tell my cop friends about this whack job'. Here's the deal with that..." He tightened his hold around Danny's shoulders as though giving him a quick hug. " You do that, and we got even more issues, especially considering all the wonderful talents a cell phone possesses. I write a text message, one word, but refrain from hitting send until I see someone other than you heading to the car. That happens, I hit send, my boys get the message, and shoot the lovely sitting lady next to your sick pal here."

Now Lindsey's heart really did freeze, and she shuddered at hearing the click of a gun being cocked.

" But it gets even better," Ron continued. " As insurance for a safe exit for my boys, and for myself, that leaves your sick pal. The cops show up, and your sick friend's chances of survival are cut a couple of notches. He'll be used as a hostage. They let my boys pass, he won't be harmed. Let me go, he won't be harmed. Refuse, then it doesn't matter if the kid starts vomiting blood, they ain't letting him go. It's only natural to hole up where you can when surrounded by cops. Waiting's not a problem for them, but it is for your friend. Get the picture?"

Hawkes nodded, seemingly numb.

Ron grinned. " Lovely." He gave Danny another squeeze, slid his arm from the quaking shoulders, and rose with a grunt to his feet. " Let's get started then. Oh, and if I think you're trying anything funny, another little quirk of cells – camera phones. I don't think you'd be up to seeing pictures of your sick friend all bloodied up, and to tell you the truth I'd rather not see'em myself. Doesn't sit right having someone pound a frail looking kid like that. Now, let's get this over and done with. shall we?"

" Wait," Hawkes said. " Give me a moment. Just a moment."

Ron seemed to ponder this, then nodded a go-ahead. Sheldon knelt in front of Danny and placed two fingers against the pulse-point on his neck. Next, he parted the blanket enough to place his ear to Danny's chest and listen as he breathed.

Hawke's eyes rolled up to lock with Lindsey's. Lindsey didn't like his expression. Worried, too worried, and a little afraid.

When Hawkes lifted his head away, he patted Danny's shoulder. " You'll be all right Danny, I swear."

Danny nodded his head on his limp neck. " Do what you gotta do, doc," Danny whispered. " Still be here when you get back. Swear it."

Sheldon chewed his lip for a moment, then nodded and stood.

Ron let the muted, paled Hawkes head out first and began to follow when he turned to whisper something to the man in the tan coat. The man nodded, and Ron finished heading out.

Tan coat man looked to the other two. " Gotta wait by the door," he said. " Keep an eye on them."

The two men nodded, the tall one stiffly, the shorter one nervously. Tan coat left, and when he did, tall man moved to crouch before Danny and Lindsey, looking between the two. Without fully realizing it, Lindsey place a protective arm around Danny's shoulders. Danny just glared at the guy through eyelids trying to slide close.

Tall man simpered. " Man, that is so frickin' sweet. You his girlfriend?"

Lindsey was aware she probably shouldn't be talking to this guy, but words came whether she wanted them to or not. " Friend. We work together."

Tall man regarded Lindsey silently for a moment. " Well aren't you the picture of brotherly love, coming to check in on your co-worker, see if he ain't coughing up a lung. Sure you ain't got a thing for him?"

" Leave her alone," Danny rasped. Tall man's attention snapped to him, gaze darkening and fingers clenching.

" What'd you say little man?"

" Piss off," Danny rasped. Tall man cupped a hand to his ear.

" Still couldn't hear you, pal. You're gonna have to speak up."

Danny started coughing, small at first, almost quiet, but jerking his body. Suddenly, he snapped forward to release a massive explosion of a cough right in tall man's face. Tall man lurched back to go falling on his butt.

" What the hell!" he scrambled to his feet to loom over Danny with fist raised. " You little son of a...!"

Shorty ran up to grab tall man's arm and hold him back.

" Dude, calm down." It was actually a struggle with tall man continuing his attempt to advance and shorty pulling him back. Then tan coat came in, looking sufficiently pissed.

" What the hell is going on! Those paramedics arrive and you two are screaming then there's no way I'm gonna be able to get rid of them, so shut up!"

Lindsey did not think it was possible for her heart to sink any lower, and yet there it went, probably to her feet. They needed that ambulance. Danny needed to be in a hospital, and she would have protested if she didn't already know the futility of it.

Tall man pointed a stiff, shaking finger at Danny. " I swear, if you survive this and I get sick, I'll hunt you down and cut your lungs out."

Danny smirked, actually smirked, and lifted a shaking had with middle finger raised. The guy reacted in another lurch in a pounce attempt, but was held back by shorty who eventually tugged tall man from the room where the two stood in the hall, talking in low murmurs.

Lindsey's jaw was fortunately too attached to her face to fall all the way to the floor. She turned to Danny, shocked, appalled, and a little amazed.

" Danny! what the hell were you thinking?"

Danny's smirk remained a permanent fixture on his face. " Wasn't thinking, was pissed. My home, Linds. You're in my home... I got a right to get on your bad side all I want. Not that I'd get on _your_ bad side. I mean I like you. I don't like them, though." He started up another round of coughing, this one longer, rougher, not simply jerking his body but almost sending it into convulsions and keeping him from taking in the air he needed. Lindsey's heart pounded and she tightened her hold on Danny, bringing him in closer while rubbing his shoulder with there being little else she could think of to do. She reached sideways for the water glass and brought it around. When the fit subsided, leaving Danny trembling, she brought the glass to his mouth for small sips.

Fewer sips this time. When finished, Danny's head dropped against Lindsey's shoulder when his neck lost the strength to hold up the skull. Danny was heaving in deep breaths, coughing periodically, eyes fighting uselessly to stay open. He really was thinner, more frail looking – but only in appearance. As much as Danny's defiance had scared the hell out of her, she found a small amount of comfort in it, knowing that this was still Danny no matter his current state of appearance.

Very small comfort. Danny was way too weak to fight. She knew he knew this, and she knew it must be tearing him up inside. He really had looked gung-ho to taking a few masked interlopers down. Had he not been sick, he would have tackled tall guy, and before then Ron. He probably would have won, too. At least Lindsey liked to think so. More realistically, he would have been shot. So one could ironically admit that this illness had just saved Danny's life – if it didn't end up killing him in the long run.

The look on Hawkes' face haunted Lindsey's mind. She didn't have to put her ear to Danny's chest. She could hear him wheezing just fine, feel the jerks of his body when he silently coughed. She was a woman who faced facts, and she was facing them even now. Danny was in a bad way, getting worse, and she was scared. And for Danny's sake she would have loved to have been able to hide it, but she was pretty sure Danny had already seen it.


	5. Fear to Dread

A/N: I apologize for taking my sweet time in posting, but I'm still trying to iron out a few kinks. I will keep at this story though, and refuse to give up on it, so don't worry about that, and please be patient.

Ch. 5

Sheldon wasn't going to give awkward silences a chance. A gun and a potential dooms-day phone call kept the situation in Ron's field, but since Hawks was the commodity here, the former mortician had at least that small mote of control going for him. Asking questions – the right questions, the kind that don't annoy – stepped the mote up. As for what the right questions were; anything that would placate to the man's confident (Sheldon hoped more overly confident) ego.

Sheldon waited until he pulled the truck away from the curb and was two blocks from Danny's place. He gave himself three minutes to get his head on straight before saying anything. Images of dismissed paramedics and Danny convulsing as his lungs tried to eject themselves from his body he couldn't dismiss from his mind, only push them to the back where they didn't make him as nauseas. Haunting presences now, and scaring the crap out of him just as effectively. Murphy's Law was having a party with the CSIs. The ironically impeccable timing of Ron and his men had Sheldon partially tuned to the future sounds of a tire going flat, or the chime of the service engine soon light. Or, better yet, showing up at the crime scene complete with Mac and several uniforms. Slow progress allowing the crap in Danny's lungs to accumulate until he suffocated, situation deteriorating to Ron pressing the send button that would end Lindsey's life – Sheldon had never felt so terrified, so utterly helpless, in his life.

Didn't mean he was panicked stupid, though. As long as he cooperated, and they made it back in time...

But that damned Murphy's Law. Sheldon knew it was just waiting around the bend with the next nasty surprise.

" What is it I'm supposed to be looking for?" Sheldon asked, his three minutes up.

Ron was rummaging through the briefcase Sheldon had taken from the crime scene. " In that dump? Ever play that game where someone sticks and object in a room that's out of place, and you have to find it? Right in front of your eyes and you don't even see it. Think of it that way." Papers rustled, and Ron pulled a few files and folders out to flip through them, only to stuff them back in without consideration for neat and orderly. He mutilated the evidence without leaving a single print thanks to the gloves he'd 'borrowed' from Sheldon's kit.

The man liked mind gamesthe tactic used by those being deliberate jerks – not as further control of the situation, but to shove already existing control into their victim's faces. Sheldon's fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel.

" I'm going to need a little more than that."

Ron dropped the suitcase next to his seat. " No you won't. I know how the CSI operates, Mr. Hawkes. That crime scene will be devoid of living bodies by the time we arrive, in turn providing me the freedom to assist you."

Sheldon gripped harder. " Then why bring me? Why not slip in yourself? Why bring my friends into this?"

" Collateral. I need you in case someone decides to drop by. You know how people are. Drop a wallet, leave a purse, forgot this, remembered that. Can't be too careful. Oh, then there's the chance it might not even be there, not if your pals at the crime lab found it first. In which case, Mr. Hawkes, you're like air – as in an extremely important necessity. Because I am not going anywhere until I get back what that SOB stole from me."

Sheldon darted his eyes in Ron's direction. " What 'SOB' exactly? The vic?"

Ron smirked, doing one of those silent chuckles that had his head jerking. " Yeah, Hawkes, your _vic. _Guy named Jack. And don't look so alarmed by the confession, Hawkes. I'll give you the man's whole name and phone number, doesn't mean there'll be a trail of bread crumbs to follow back to me. I know how to cover my ass, Mr. Hawkes. The only proof of my involvement with this case of your's is in my head. Not even any GSR for you to swab."

Ron rolled his head lazily in Sheldon's direction, still smirking in a way that made Sheldon want to slam the breaks and let the dashboard wipe it off.

" Like I said," Ron went on, " I know how to cover my ass. I'm like a ghost, you know? Disappearing in the daylight. And that's all I'll ever be to you and your crime boys, even with me sitting here, in the flesh, confessing my guts out. Ain't that just a bitch?" He chuckled, audibly this time.

Sheldon didn't say anything. Control was a game now, and a response would be what earned Ron the points. So there was no choice but to let the awkward silence return, this time simmering with anger radiating from Sheldon.

" So," Ron said after a time. " What's up with that skinny white boy? Kockin' on death's door or just the flu?"

Sheldon swallowed back a lump of burning bile, but kept his mouth firmly clamped. Ron thumped him on the arm with the gun.

" Come on, fill me in. Can't be all that simple what with you calling an ambulance and all. The kid could be the poster boy for the plague. I mean, seriously, I've never seen anyone lookin' that messed up when sick. No point in even calling an ambulance, 'cause that kid is screwed..."

" Shut up," Sheldon growled. " Just do me a favor, and shut the hell up, all right? We go in, get your... _whatever_... Then you go back to your men, get them out of that apartment, and leave us the hell alone. And I swear, if anything happens to Danny and Lindsey, I will hunt you down and dissect you – _Alive._

Chuckling morphed into a full on laugh that had Ron thumping his knee with the cell phone. " Dang, Hawkes, you never struck me as the type as having a mean streak. But what happens to your friends is up to you. Play nice, my boys play nice, and we all get off scott free to go our merry separate way. Then you can call the paramedics and get your buddy's lungs drained until they shrivel up. No need for bloodshed or unnecessary violence, just a simple transaction. Shouldn't be too bad."

Sheldon inwardly cringe. He wasn't really superstitious guy, but there was no denying life's sadistic enjoyment of proving such phrases wrong.

Murphy's Law was laughing at him while loading it's guns.

NY

Danny had stopped shivering, Lindsey just couldn't decide if that was a good thing or reason to let the worry increase. His rasping, wheezing breaths, shallow inhalations, and rattling coughs had Lindsey's own lungs feeling two sizes too small out of sympathy. Sometimes, after a good chest-deep bout of hacking, Danny would suck in a hissing breath of pain with arms tightening around an agonizingly sore ribcage, curl into himself, and curse. When the pain abated, his body would relax, and his breath would be released on a sigh.

He had managed, some time ago, to move his head to be tilted back against the bed, insisting that it helped with the breathing since all weight wasn't focused on his chest.

Lindsey had her focus split between Danny and the short intruder hovering outside the door, watching Danny and Lindsey in turn. Sounds drifted down the hall, low and constant murmurings of conversation that Lindsey barely caught snatches of.

" Th-They..." Danny rasped. Lindsey's head snapped around to look at him.

" What?" Lindsey said, leaning in closer.

" They watchin' my TV?"

If pity wasn't so dominant, she would have smacked him across the shoulder. Instead, she reared her head back.

" Three armed men in your home holding us hostage and you're worried they're watching your TV? Please tell me you're delirious."

Danny's head rolled in her direction, bleary eyes blinking slowly. " Not worried. Pissed. Didn't invite'em. Don't like the idea... of them touchin'... my stuff." He took a breath before speaking again. " You'd be pissed too."

He had a point, an odd point but a valid point. As a kid, Lindsey had hated it when people walked into her room and messed with her stuff uninvited. Home invaders – same difference except multiplied by ten. For Danny, it was probably more like multiplied by thirty with him being invalid and unable to do anything about it. He had every right to be pissed, even if it came down to being something as trivial as one of the thugs tossing a used tissue and missing the trash.

" They better not eat anything. They touch the Milk Duds, I'll kill'em. Those are for Louie. Yeah, I know, he can't eat 'em. But, when he wakes up, he'll like seein' 'em there, you know? Don't know why he likes 'em. They aren't all that great, not like a Snickers or Twix or somethin', but he can never get enough of 'em. We go to a movie, he's always gotta have enough for Milk Duds. Always Milk Duds, never popcorn. He eats 'em with Pepsi, even though Pepsi and chocolate suck together." Danny chuckled softly. " Louie's weird like that. Likes weird stuff, like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. But even I gotta admit those are pretty good..."

Danny suddenly lurched forward to double up in a cough that sounded as though it were ripping his insides apart. Tensing, panicking, Lindsey began patting his back hard.

" Come on, Danny, get it out. It's all right, you're all right..."

Between coughs, he barely sucked in any air. Just kept coughing until Lindsey was sure his lungs had shriveled to nothing. Her heart hammered, her own breath stilled, then Danny inhaled a ripping breath that reminded Lindsey to breathe herself. Danny stayed doubled up with head bowed, arms tight around his chest, and a broken whimper escaping his throat. Lindsey went from patting to rubbing, and could feel the twitching, shuddering muscle spasms in his back.

" Your ribs?" she asked.

Danny could only nod, pulling in air.

Lindsey lifted her eyes straight to the nightstand littered with tissues and pain reliever bottles.

" Think could manage keeping a pill down?"

Danny lifted his head to let it drop back against the bed. " I can't keep food down, and you aren't supposed to take pills without somethin' in your stomach."

Lindsey moved onto her knees to crawl over to the nightstand. " Not all the time. One pill shouldn't hurt."

" Hey!"

She wasn't even moving yet, only on her hands and knees, when shorty entered, aiming his gun at Lindsey.

" What're you doing?" His tone was sharp, threatening, but wavered with trepidation.

Lindsey lifted an unsteady hand to point at the night stand. " Just... going over there, getting one of those bottles. My friend's sick, remember? He needs those."

Shorty looked from the table to Lindsey, then waved his gun. " Sit back down, I'll get 'em."

Lindsey dropped herself back against the bed, watching shorty grab all three bottles in one hand then tossing them to Lindsey. She set them beside her with the water pitcher and glass.

" Anything else?" he snapped.

Lindsey shrugged. " Wet washcloth. No, wait, a wet one and a dry one."

Shorty jerked his head in a small nod and hurried into the bathroom. Lindsey heard the sound of a cupboard opening, then running water. Not even a minute had passed when shorty returned and tossed both cloths to Lindsey.

" Thanks," she said, giving shorty a wan smile that she didn't let reach her eyes. Shorty didn't say anything, she returned to hovering within sight of the hallway with back leaning against the wall.

Lindsey folded the damp cloth and placed it on the back of Danny's neck. She poured water, popped open a bottle of ibuprofen, and with one hand helped Danny raise his head to take both pill and a sip of water. When done, she lowered his head back onto the bed, and proceeded to mop his wet face with the dry cloth.

" You really need to drink more water," she said. She set the cloth down to help lift his head for another sip. " So, if you don't mind my asking, what's up with you and ambulances anyways? You don't have to answer if it's personal."

Danny struggled to lift his head on his own volition, only to have it roll from Lindsey's hand to drop back onto the bed. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice sounded clearer.

" You ever ride in an ambulance before? 'Cause you had to - not on some ride along or somethin' like that?"

Lindsey nodded. " Couple of times. First time when I injured my back falling off a horse."

Danny lips curved in a small smile. " Bet you got back on as soon as you could."

Lindsey grimaced. " Sooner, actually, before I was supposed to, but it didn't make things worse. Now stop changing the subject. What did you mean when you said they stripped you?"

Danny's smile faded. " I'm guessin' that never happened to you?"

" No."

Danny coughed lightly. " Did to me. Me and my dad get the crap beat out of us after we take a ride in this gypsy cab. It was pretty bad for me. They had to take off my shirt and pants to get to the worst of it, and I was kind of left like that for a lot longer than I should have been. I was freezin', my glasses were gone so I couldn't see a damn thing, all these strangers around me, touchin', tellin' me it won't hurt when it damn well does... Being touched after having the snot pounded out of me was bad enough, being pretty much in my birthday suit sucked to hell. And I was never the touchy/feely type to begin with. So after gypsy cabs, ambulances and I aren't all that tight." Then he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. " Course, I'd take an ambulance over a gypsy cab any day."

Lindsey grimaced and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. " Wow. After going through that, I'd hate ambulances too."

" I lived. But I'm still not happy about it. I was a freakin' kid, you'd think they'd have a little more consideration... I don't know, maybe they were major busy or somethin'. All I remember was being without clothes, hurting, and scared to hell."

Danny was interrupted by more coughing. It wasn't another thrashing, lung-shredding bout, which Lindsey hoped was promising. But careful observation and logic didn't give her the luxury of holding to hope. This fit was longer and halfhearted - because Danny was just too exhausted from the last vicious round of coughs to put much effort into these. He just closed his eyes and rode it out with chest jerking then expanding like an inflating balloon, deflating spasmodically for more coughing.

All Lindsey could do was wipe his face and have water ready.

Frantic, rapid pounding thumped on Danny's front door that had Lindsey snapping her head around. Shorty in the hall went rigid, and the two in the living room flanked the door with arms loose at their sides. One looked at the other. The other, the tall guy, nodded once and headed with long strides to Danny's room, shorty following.

Shorty closed the door – not all the way, leaving an inch of space between door and frame.

The tall one – the creep – knelt in front of Danny, regarding him dead-pan and dangerously. His eyes flickered to Lindsey.

" Better keep it down, man," he said.

Danny cracked one eye open, regarded the man in return, and apparently got the message when he futilely clamped his jaw shut to stifle the sound of the coughs. His chest kept jerking, and silence could have been absolute except when Danny inhaled with air rasping loud into his throat. The next cough he couldn't stifle.

Lindsey's heart was speed beating uncomfortably. She licked suddenly dry lips, looking from creep to Danny.

Danny grimaced. " I'm... trying..." he wheezed.

Creep nodded with false understanding, pursing his lips into a straight line. He reached out with one hand to cover Danny's mouth, then with the other to wrap his fingers loosely around Danny's neck to hold his head in place. Cold, electric fear jolted through Lindsey's body from spine to fingertips. Danny lifted his hands, except seemed uncertain whether to pull at the hand on his mouth or at his throat, so kept them hovering, fingers curled and twitching with each cough.

Through the door, conversation carried. Lindsey heard talk of emergency, a 911 call, and it being a mistake. Lindsey's heart took a nose dive at hearing that last part, and didn't attempt to hear the rest.

" Please," Lindsey whispered. " Don't do this. He needs to be in a hospital. He can barely breathe, please..."

Either creep didn't care or wasn't listening. The latter was the most probable reason – in fact he seemed to be enjoying the moment with a smile tugging at his lips - and Lindsey's eyes burned with a cocktail of tears forming from fear, sorrow, and rage. Lindsey could have screamed, got the paramedics' attention – but then _bam bam bam_ they'd all be dead. Either that or two more would be added to the collection of hostages. Whatever the outcome, Lindsey wasn't going to risk it, not if there was a better plan somewhere in the future allowing everyone to get out of this alive. She just prayed Danny lasted that long.

Lindsey heard intruder number three say a polite farewell, and the creak of a door being shut. Yet Creep kept his hands in the same position, and Lindsey could have sworn his fingers were starting to tighten around Danny's neck.

" Stop it," she growled in a quavering, choked voice. " They're gone, so let him go."

Shorty thumped creep on the shoulder. " She's right man, ease up. We need the guy. Boss ain't gonna like this..."

The bedroom door creaked open, and intruder three paused before entering. " What're you doing?"

Creep snatched his hands from Danny and stood, backing away. " Just helpin' the man tone the noise down." He wiped both hands on the sides of his jeans. " Need to go wash up," and he headed out. Tan coat followed, but shorty lingered, shifting nervously while staring at Danny as though the CSI were a corpse he was forced to be in the same room with.

The adrenaline of fear and anger dissipating from Lindsey's system left her shaking uncontrollably. On the other hand, she'd managed to siphon enough control to keep the tears from falling, and maintain the facade of complete self-control. She focused her remaining anger to glare at shorty.

" He needed that ambulance," she practically snarled. Shorty shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and averted his gaze to the floor.

" I – I know. B-but it shouldn't be long. Boss'll be back soon..." Shorty's manner, voice, and unease gradually revealed to Lindsey a guy much younger than she had first assumed. Possibly a kid in over his head, or someone too green to know how he needed to act. The kid's compliance to help and his discomfort around a sick Danny screamed advantage. Maybe not to get him to be a part of some escape plan – that would have been pushing it – but more along the lines of a sympathetic voice and helping hand in keeping Danny alive.

Above that, a go between to keep creep from doing something to Danny.

Danny was still coughing as though momentum was keeping it going. Lindsey gently applied pressure to the side of his head to get it to turn and him to face her. His eyes were slitted and unfocused, twitching as the lids fought to stay open. Lindsey brushed his sweat-soaked hair back, making it spike up.

" It's all right if you sleep, Danny," Lindsey said. " Maybe when you wake up, you'll be in a hospital... without being stripped," she added with a grin.

" Maybe..." Danny wheezed, " you'll be dead."

Lindsey shook her head. " Danny, you're not going to miss anything taking a small nap. Besides, you don't have a choice. You can barely keep your eyes open. Just sleep, for a little while. If something happens or starts to happen, I'll wake you up."

Danny snorted out a caustic laugh. " Yeah... right. Doubt you'll have time."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. " Just go to sleep. It'll be all right. Hawkes will be back soon. You need the rest. I'll be all right. I mean I'm all right so far seeing as how all the crap keeps happening to you."

Danny smiled at that. " That's harsh, Montana."

" Yeah, well, the truth usually is. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." She meant it to be humorous, but her voice didn't convey it. If anything, it came out sounding more like a promise, which Lindsey would hold to.

Danny, finally coaxed by her words, let his eyelids drop. The coughing became sporadic, making his body twitch, and though his breaths were shallow they were also steady.

" He really doesn't look good," the kid said from his post in the hall. Lindsey smiled tightly at him.

" You think?"

TBC...


	6. Dread to Panic

A/N: All right, hopefully I solved my plot dilemma. Again I apologize that this is so slow in coming, but it is a WIP (although I'm very near the end now) and the plot is forcing me to take my time with it, ensuring that everything works out not only how it's supposed to, but plausibly as well. Actually, I had to change a few things, luckily only stuff concerning the end, so the rest of the story is fine how it is.

Ch. 6

By lifting the dessicated bed frame, Sheldon was able to shift and loosen the packed junk pile to create an avalanche loosening and spreading the garbage for easier access. He crouched and rubbed his finger between lip and chin, then reached out to start picking at the top layer of crap – an old clock, moldy crates, abused plastic doll, gutted radio, circuit board... pack rat paradise, and he couldn't help considering how it all ended up here. The logical conclusion was that an empty warehouse was easier to get to than the city dump – which was true. Garbage just wasn't worth the hassle.

Sheldon felt justified in his desire to chuck this trash at the previous owners, because the piles made for such _excellent_ hiding places, especially when the object in question being sought had neither a name or visual representation for Sheldon to go by. Wild goose chases yielded more results than this.

Junk clattered in a resounding cacophony that had Sheldon's bones trying to leap from his skin. He kept his face to the garbage, but turned his eyes to the right at Ron kicking aside metal boxes and an old TV set. The man seemed to be abusing the fact that there were no cops present continuing to secure the scene, or maybe more like rubbing it in. Sheldon didn't hold it past Ron to be doing the latter. No need for police presence since no CSI was scheduled to be on the scene. Ron had been placidly aware of this, grinning all the while Sheldon tried to rattle him by spouting off how a cop _would_ be present. But he'd been assuming during the drive over that Stella would be hanging around. In all truth, his assumption had been nothing more than a hope used to placate his nerves and quiet his pounding heart

What he thought Stella's presence would have accomplished, he didn't know now. He hadn't been exactly thinking too clearly on the drive over, and settled for taking what he could get, despite the possibility that Stella could have easily ended up another hostage.

It had been a sobering realization, and one that Sheldon would cling to so as not to make the same mistake twice. Picking through the garbage piece by piece was nothing more than busy work. Not the kind that wasted time, but the kind that bought time, allowing Sheldon a moment to clearly ponder the situation. The answer to dilemma was simple – find what Ron wanted to get him out of the way, then get Danny to a hospital. What Sheldon needed to think about was the possible places this 'item' could have been placed. Ron had said Jack had called the police just before Ron had killed him. Therefore, if Jack had done all this just to piss Ron off, then the item could be anywhere, including beyond this warehouse in an actual trash bin. However, if Jack had set the whole thing up in order to bring Ron down, this item could be playing a major part, in which case it would have to be hidden where it could be found.

A third possibility was that Jack had hoped to escape Ron, with the item, therefore hid it where neither Ron nor the cops could find it.

A rat squeaked and darted from Sheldon's pile. He jerked back with hands raised as the rodent sped past him to the pile adjacent. Sheldon huffed out a frustrated breath, and tossed a Barbie head by the hair at the same pile.

" It would help if I knew what I was looking for," Sheldon said, voice amplified and hollowed by the massive space.

" I don't like repeating myself, Mr. Hawkes, but since you like mimicking a broken record, I'll say it one more time; you'll know it when you see it. It's not exactly something you'd tossed away like yesterday's trash – unless it was ruined. But Jack wasn't stupid enough to have done that. He wanted it just as much as me."

Since Ron seemed to enjoy being cryptic, Sheldon opted for another strategy. Today was a bad day for games.

" This Jack guy, did he want it for himself or did he want it to use against you?" Sheldon turned his head to see Ron also crouched, picking away in an infuriatingly meticulous manner, as though he had all the time in the world to scrounge. Sheldon's jaw tightened, grinding his teeth, and his muscles twitched with each thunk, clang, and clatter of garbage casually tossed aside.

" It was collateral to get what he wanted. Have to hand it to the man, he really wasn't stupid. He knew I'd kill him, which is why he called the cops. Didn't even know they were coming until I heard the sirens. Kind of makes you reevaluate the human race." Ron twisted his head enough to peer over his shoulder at Sheldon. " They say people go too far in the name of gain and greed. But anger... greed as nothin' over anger. Jack was pissed – 'I get want I want or no one does' kind of pissed. You mix anger with desperation, then you're reaching a point where a man'll do anything, even get himself killed rather than lose."

Ron rose to turn himself bodily, shoving his hands into his jean's pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. " I know what you're trying to do, Mr. Hawkes. You think by getting into Jack's head, you can sort out where he might have stashed what I'm looking for." Ron grinned. " Smart man. Clever smart and logic smart, and I like that. You know why I like that, Mr. Hawkes? Because most people – when it comes to smarts – like to go for being the clever kind. You know, the kind that – rather letting things play out for a quick, uneventful ending – go for playing the hero, trying to out-think the bad guy to both stop him and save the day. Which works out fine in fairytales and movies. But real life likes to be a bitch – and the guy who goes for the logical smarts knows that. Guys like you. You know that the only real way to keep your friends safe and that white boy from choking on his own mucus is to give the bad guy what he wants."

Ron removed his hand from his pocket to point in that 'teacher giving lecture' manner that did only to pluck Sheldon's nerves into further agitation. The manner was enhanced when Ron began a methodical pace.

" And because you're playing the right kind of smart that doesn't get people killed, I'm going to throw you a bone, let you in on a secret you'd best keep to yourself unless you want a bullet in that pretty girl's brain. What had Jack so pissed involved him finding out that I was sick of my own team – my main man E aside, the rest I was planning to scrap. The guys can never take a freakin' hint, follow simple freakin' orders, and seem unable to even _attempt_ trusting me even though I've yet to ever steer them wrong, get them screwed, or generally fail them for that matter. Jack especially had this funny little quirk about him – always though he knew better – sort of like how a highschool grad thinks he knows more about engineering than the guy with the degree in it. Jack didn't know crap, the man was too busy keeping his head up his ass to know anything. But – to my surprise – he wasn't stupid. He found out that I was going to dump the team after our next job, didn't like it, and expressed his opinion the only way he knew how – by trying to screw me."

Urgency and frustration were turned down a couple of massive notches as Sheldon processed this information. " So Jack knew you were going to kill him?"

Ron threw his arms up in an indifferent shrug. " Seems so. Started to really sweat when I pulled out the gun, but didn't waste a breath trying to beg for his life. We never saw eye to eye the first day I hired him on, and the man was very much the type to cut off his nose to spite his face. He didn't like to lose, and had to have the last word. So tell me Mr. Hawkes," Ron halted and stuck his hands into his coat pockets this time, arms hanging in a loose triangle at his sides rather than stiff. " This help at all with our problem?"

Hawkes stood, placing his hands on his hips and looking to the floor. " Partly."

" Partly?"

Sheldon hesitated on the answer as he processed some more. " Seeing as how I only have your personal assessment of Jack to work with, I would say that if he was truly out to bring you down any way he could, he would have placed this 'item' of yours where the cops could have found it. And tossing it into a pile of junk wouldn't have been as effective as – I don't know – putting it in something he knew the cops would be inclined to look at, but out of sight enough for you not to find with the little time you had to escape the police."

" Uh – huh. Is this where the partly comes in?"

Sheldon's mouth twisted at the bitter taste pooling onto his tongue, and looked up. " Partly as in I think I know where your item is, but the problem isn't solved. If anything, it's worse."

" How so?"

" What you're looking for – the only place it could be if Jack wanted it found by authorities – is at the crime lab."

NY

The rise and fall of Danny's chest could have created a nice hypnotic effect if the sudden hitches and jerks of coughing hadn't kept interrupting the rhythm. As far as scrounging for a means of comfort, it was all that Lindsey had to hold onto through the coughing, wheezing, pale face, and lack of any other motion on Danny's part. Hell, even the wheezing had its merit since – morbid as it was to think – both it and the motion of Danny's chest attested to him being alive. It was probable she was overreacting, then again it was probable that she was under-reacting and in all truth should have been panicking. She really couldn't say, because she had never been around anyone this viciously sick before while under these surreal circumstances. So she found assurances where she could to keep her nerves calm and her mind clear.

Lindsey took her eyes from Danny for a quick glance at the window that hovered like a blinding gray square in the blue-gray dusk of the room. The only light bothered to be flicked on was the one in the kitchen. The hallway was the darkest, like a miniature tunnel, with the kid his own shadow without features, only shape. The murmuring beyond that tunnel had gone from constant to periodic, and never at a volume that allowed Lindsey to catch a word here and there.

Another cough brought Lindsey's attention back to Danny. Saliva and mucus sprayed from his mouth like a pathetic geyser, and Lindsey could hear it slapping the back of his throat. Some of it caught, and he choked, lifting his head with eyes snapping open wide and frightened, until air finally broke through the obstruction. His head tilted forward, and spittle stretched from his mouth to his knee.

Lindsey turned her mouth down in a frown of disgust, and pulled several tissues from the box to wipe the silver saliva string from Danny's mouth. Danny lifted a flaccid hand to take the tissue, hacked, and spit into the wad.

Lindsey gingerly took the wad from Danny between thumb and finger, unable to hold back the grimace any longer. " This is so the opposite of what I wanted to be doing today."

Danny lifted his head, only to have it dropping back onto the bed. " Sorry," he wheezed.

She scrunched the wad into another tissue, and made a two point shot at the waste basket beside the night stand. " Why? It's not your fault a bunch of faceless men walked in and took us hostage."

" It's my fault I'm grossing you out."

" Actually, that would be your lungs' fault. No, correction, the virus or whatever attacking your lungs."

Danny's body spasmed in another cough. Lindsey sighed, taking the dry wash cloth to wipe Danny's face.

" You wouldn't happen to have any of that Vix stuff, would you?"

Danny smiled through the coughing, and lifted his hand to point at the nightstand.

" Straight," he sucked in a rasping breath that made Lindsey's chest tighten just to hear, " from my kit. Always good to have when the bodies stink, right?"

" Even better when you're congested." She turned her head to the hall and cleared her throat. " Excuse me."

The kid's head snapped around and he straightened from his less than casual lean against the wall. " What?"

Lindsey raised both her hands. " Just thought I'd warn you. I need to get something from the night stand, the Vix. Thought you'd want to know so..."

The kid shrugged in a facade of nonchalance. " Yeah, sure, whatever."

Lindsey moved slowly around Danny enough to reach out and grab the small blue bottle hidden behind the digital clock. She returned to her spot next to Danny as she unscrewed the cap. The biting aroma hit her nose like a slap that – in all truth – she found rather disconcerting thanks to the association the smell had developed over the years. Smells were hair triggers to vivid memories, and thoughts of pale dead faces with a seemingly dead pale face in front of her made her stomach turn. The only difference was the motion of Danny's chest, and the noisy breathing.

She gathered the sticky goo onto two fingers, then used her other hand to pull aside the unbuttoned collar of Danny's shirt. The moment her slime covered fingers touched the colorless skin of Danny's chest, her face screwed with displeasure.

Contrary to the popular beliefs of her brothers and sisters, Lindsey was not a hardcore romantic. She'd indulged her feminine and emotional side with a few tasteful romance books, but more to pass the time than because she fancied the fantasy. Her younger sister, on the other hand – barely out of her teens – inhaled romances like they were candy. Were the girl here, right now, observing her older sister applying Vix to some guy's chest, would she have been swooning? Probably. Lindsey could almost hear her crooning words of _oh, how sweet_ or something like that.

Had she been the one doing the administering, the reality would have been a good knock upside her head. Applying strong smelling goop to an over heated, clammy chest was the antithesis of intimate, and it was making Lindsey's stomach tie itself in knots. She could feel Danny's chest rattle with each breath he pulled, and finally – fully – understood Hawkes' diagnosis of Danny being malnourished, because she could also feel the bones through the colorless skin. Moving to the throat was slightly more tolerable, except when Danny swallowed, then gagged when Lindsey accidentally pressed too hard.

" Sorry," she winced.

It was definitely no picnic for Danny either, the way his face scrunched and lips curled in a grimace of discomfort. Vix was an oddity in that it burned and cooled at the same time when first applied, then increased the feeling of being caked in filth. Lindsey recalled her own days of the flu when – no matter how many showers she took – she always returned to feeling filthy ten seconds after dressing, and especially when reapplying the Vix.

But in the end, it would be a small price to pay when Danny's congestion cleared up enough to allow for a better inhale of oxygen.

When finished, Lindsey wiped her fingers on a tissue, and Danny's features relaxed.

" Better?" she asked.

" Getting there," he replied, and shuddered. " I hate this stuff."

" Tell me about it." No amount of wiping could fully rid herself of the feel of the stuff. She poured more water and lifted Danny's head for a sip, which burst from his mouth in a spray when coughs erupted. He dropped his head back, panting, coughing, panting and coughing, water rolling down his face and neck. Lindsey dabbed the water to keep from wiping away the Vix, then took the moist rag from the back of Danny's neck to remoisten it with the water from the pitcher.

Danny emitted a low moan – or what Lindsey first took to be a low moan – changing over into an incoherent mumbling. Lindsey didn't bother ringing the excess water out and just slid it back behind Danny's neck. Her heart tripped over itself at the continuation of Danny's low murmurs – until she actually strained her ears to hear what it was Danny was saying.

Not so much saying as – kind of, sort of – singing.

" _I like to dream... right between the sound machine..._"

Lindsey snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the near hysterical laughter trying to bubble up. Sickness and hostage situations frowned on singing, but fever induced delusions always did say 'screw it' to everything. Lindsey placed her hand on Danny's forehead, then cheeks – same as before with it burning hot.

" _You don't know what we could find... Come along with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride..."_ Danny chuckled, coughed, and kept right on chuckling, which had Lindsey undecided on whether to panic, berate, or join in the half-hearted crooning.

She settled for continuing to worry, holding herself back enough from panic to think straight. " Danny, if this were any other situation, I'd have to arrest you for possible drug possession."

" The only drug in me is that pill that – lucky me – has yet to make a reappearance. You don't like magic carpet rides, Montana? This one's cool. It's all natural, know what I mean? No hash brownies or hemp included." He coughed, hard. " The only setback is the lack of oxygen and the chest pains."

Lindsey nodded thoughtfully. " The lack of oxygen explains a lot. What you need to do is stop wasting your energy singing and take a nap."

Danny shook his head. " Not exactly the right time for a nap. Contrary to what you may think of me, I'm not lazy."

Lindsey started at this as though she'd been flicked in the nose. " I don't think you're lazy. A little weird, little obnoxious, a lot of mouthy – but never lazy. If anything, on a normal day, you have too much energy that half the time I'd kill for. Lazy people don't move as much as you do. I mean even when you're sitting you're still moving, even if it's just your fingers tapping on a counter top. Messer, you're too much the opposite of lazy to be called lazy."

Danny grinned, and even on his sickly face it conveyed his usual mischief. Very Cheshire cat of him, making Lindsey feel positively Alice tossed in a Wonderland of skyscrapers and heavy traffic. Unlike Alice, Lindsey felt she was integrating well with this concrete world, but like Alice there were always those little New York quirks that left her reeling – the lingo for the most part; sayings that actually required translation. And it was always Messer doing the translating, pointing her in the right direction, her own Cheshire Cat in human flesh.

The analogy, and Danny's smile fading into a grimace of pain at another cough, resulted in a pang of sadness constricting Lindsey's heart. Granted he could rile her at the drop of a hat, but getting her to dredge up witty retorts had forced Lindsey to open up in a manner that had her used to the goings on of the lab within days. If acquaintanceship wasn't born from working with the people, then it had come from her inquiries as to whether Danny liked making the newbie's life miserable or was generally like this with everyone.

Truthfully, she enjoyed the game. Danny knew how to take just as much as he knew how to dish out, and Lindsey had yet to find the verbal burr that would rile him in return. If he didn't retort, then he laughed with genuine humor. It both annoyed her and made her want to laugh in return, and stifled the awkward hesitancy that normally came with being the new girl.

Mac had made her feel welcome, Danny had made her feel part of the team. Morbidly enough, it was taking her watching him suffer to realize this, hoping and praying that her Cheshire cat didn't fade out on her.

" You're more incorrigible than lazy," she said, rubbing the dry cloth over his sweat-slicked hair. Her words didn't instigate another smile. The cough had worn Danny out, caused him pain, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

NY

Sheldon clenched his fists without intending to, and had to remain conscious of them to keep from decking Ron on the spot. " It's not that simple..."

Ron smirked with far too much confidence. " Sure it is, Hawkes. Go in, ask for the box, search it, get the item, and get it back to me. How's that not simple?"

" Number one – I still have no idea what I'm looking for. If it's already bagged and tagged, then me removing it from the lab is evidence tampering, and if I get caught, we're both screwed."

" Actually, for me it'd be a set back. You and your buddies are the ones who'll be screwed. Don't go losing the logic on me now, Hawkes. What's more important, jail time or your friends' lives? They're counting on you Hawkes, especially that white boy..."

" His name's Danny."

" Fine, Danny. Especially Danny." Ron whipped out the cell phone from his coat pocket, and Sheldon went rigid, stiff enough to snap at the smallest muscle twitch, and heart jack hammering against his sternum. Ron looked at the phone, and appeared to be sifting through messages rather than dialing.

" I really hope this isn't about moral issues, Hawkes. Nice to have integrity and all, but we're a little pressed for time thanks to your pal _Danny. _Think it's high time we checked in on the poor guy."

The beeping sound of dialing was unmistakable in the silent warehouse, and Sheldon's heart shot up into his mouth.

" Wait! Don't. We'll go... We'll go!"

Ron kept dialing.

NY

The Vix wasn't doing squat except weighing on his chest like arctic slime. He felt coated in a shell of slime and dried sweat, and would have stripped even in front of Lindsey to bolt to the shower had he the energy to do so. Lindsey was right about him – immobility wasn't in him. Both that immobility and feeling filthy was like those itches inside the skin that one could never find to scratch. He needed motion, if not to shower than at least to do something about his persistent home invaders. Right now, he far preferred the ants that had kept mysteriously popping up all over his kitchen counter a few weeks back than the human vermin ransacking his place. At least the ants had eventually vanished, going out just as mysteriously as they had come in. These men were trespassing, Danny had every right to shoot them, if only he could remember where he'd placed his gun...

Numb washed over him in waves for the third time, and this time he didn't attempt to shake it off. He didn't have the energy to do that much, not anymore. His mind drifted to Louie – again – and he wondered haphazardly if there was some level of unconsciousness that could be reached where two comatose individuals could actually communicate. It was odd, ridiculous, and so Crossingover that Danny had to mentally laugh and cuss at himself. But he dwelled on it all the same, because at that moment he wanted nothing more than to talk to his brother. Perhaps get some advice on how to get rid of intruders that didn't know how to leave, ask about what helps against congestion – Louie's smoking had brought him to a point where even a slight change in weather had his chest gunking up, making Danny bless the day he'd kicked the habit for himself – and just talk. Why was it no one ever wanted to just talk until way, way, _way_ after the fact? Danny and Louie had never just talked. Fought and joked, but never talked.

Movement jostling his elbow had him pulling his eyelids apart to slits, and rolling his head to look at Lindsey. She returned his gaze with her own worried, sheepish one.

" Sorry," she said. " Butt's kind of going numb."

Danny wanted to laugh, but his attempt turned into a cough, which pissed off his ribs. He lifted one unsteady hand to rub his chest, and twisted his face in disgust at contacting the slippery Vix. He wiped his hand off on his thigh.

" Feel free to grab a chair," he wheezed. " Foldable one in the closet." Talking had become an effort, requiring more air than his lungs could take in, and rubbing his aching throat raw. He cleared his throat, which had Lindsey bring up the water. A few sips of tepid liquid, plus a purposefully initiated cough, and the pain of talking became nothing more than an annoyance. " You could sit on a pillow."

Lindsey's lips curved toward a smirk, but since it didn't reach her eyes, became more of a nervous smile. " You mean the one covered in cooties? I'll suffer a numb backside, thank you very much."

Danny smiled and groaned. " Ah, cooties. You really are fresh out of kindergarten, Montana. Try somethin' new."

" How about plague?"

" Too harsh."

" Too bad. But here, let me... and don't cough on me!"

She reached behind Danny's head, stretching her arm until her fingertips were able to snag the corner of the pillow. She pulled it over, and lifted Danny's head enough to place it behind him, relieving his neck of the potential crick to form from having it bent back for so long. Danny sighed in utter contentment.

" Now that's freakin' bliss. Bed would be better."

Lindsey nudged his shoulder with her own. " Messer, I don't care how skinny you've gotten, I'm not going to throw my back out lifting you into that bed. Not when we're going to have to haul you out of it again when we head to the hospital."

Hospital. Danny gulped. " Am I really that bad off?"

" Hawkes thinks so, and I don't think he's the kind of guy we should be second guessing. He said your congestion was sounding bad, and that you're malnourished."

Danny closed his eyes in quiet frustration and even quieter fear. " Figures. Freakin' starving and can't keep anything down. Right now, it feels like my stomach's eating itself. I'm so freakin' hungry it hurts, makin' me feel all queasy and crap, but the thought of food's doin' that too. That make any sense to you?"

" You're sick..."

Danny opened his eyes to see Lindsey's sympathetic face. She had her elbow on the bed and the side of her head resting against her hand.

" That's what being sick does to you."

Danny released a long shuddering breath, emptying his lungs just above the point that would initiate the itch and resume the coughing. " I feel like I'm being torn apart."

Lindsey moved her hand from her own head to pick up the washcloth and dry Danny's face. She paused, then leaned in close, lowering her voice when she spoke.

" And you're breath could level half of New York." She grinned wanly, her poor attempt at lightening the mood. Danny couldn't help giving in, even clenched his jaw to dam in the laughter, but his body shook with it.

" Rival Godzilla, right?" he breathlessly said.

" Danny, it could _kill_ Godzilla."

The sharp creak of a floor board pulled Lindsey's gaze to the hall, and Danny rolled his head to follow. But he wasn't given time to see anything when fingers wrapped like a vice around his upper arm and practically ripped him away from the bed to start dragging him across the floor. The blanket fell away, and the cold attacked Danny like a punch to the gut that had him gasping. He heard Lindsey screaming, begging, heard the creep dragging him telling her to shut up. He struggled to his feet but couldn't even get them under him, attempted to pull the hand away on his arms, yet couldn't direct his own arm to where it needed to go. He was pulled into his own living room, behind the couch, and dropped like a gym bag onto the beige carpeted floor that did nothing to lessen the pain of impacting his ribs. The tall guy and the quiet guy loomed over him and stared down – quiet guy imapssive, tall guy grinning in a manner that had ice trickling along Danny's spine. Fear had Danny's heart slamming, but his skill at masking emotions allowed him a genuine glare with genuine anger backing it up.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to have tall guy shove his booted foot into Danny's shoulder, shoving the sick man to his back. Tall guy then planted that same heavy foot on Danny's chest as quiet guy pulled out a camera phone and snapped a few pictures.

No pressure was applied to the foot, but the tread of the boot was sharp against the exposed skin of Danny's upper chest, with the heel digging into his breast bone on each inhale. He had managed to get both hands wrapped around tall guy's ankle, which was as far as he could go, with nothing left that would allow him a proper struggle. He shifted what he hoped was a burning gaze between the two men, pulling up every gram of anger he had to keep the fear at bay enough not to show through.

Tall guy huffed and shook his head. " This ain't gonna work. Not convincing enough."

Weight increased on the foot, pressure increased on Danny's chest, and the expansion of his ribcage decreased. His breaths turned faster and shallower until he was barely pulling air in at all – no thanks to the congestion. Danny coughed trying to clear more space, which made his chest spasm and the boot dig in mercilessly. Fear had its fuel, and grew into panic that beat anger aside to take over at the forefront. It pulled small flecks of energy with it, and forced Danny to struggle even if it was feeble and useless. He pulled at the boot, pushed at it, writhed and even tried to twist away which turned out to be a big mistake when the ache in his ribs became a fire incinerating his bones.

" Son of bitch!" Danny cried out, cursing non stop, until his lungs were completely empty of air and couldn't be refilled, and all he could manage sound-wise was an agonized growl. His vision started to haze, graying, then fading toward dark. He heard, dream-like, Lindsey's voice echoing toward him.

" What are you doing! Leave him alone! Please, stop! Stop it! Please!" Her voice. She was crying, all out sobbing hysterically between screaming and pleading, which only encouraged tall guy to press harder.

" Knock it off!" Quiet guy shoved tall guy's shoulder. " Get off him, get him back to the room, and stop being an asshole. The Boss said we need him alive, then we need him alive, so stop screwing around."

Tall guy's mouth remained curved in a sardonic smirk, and yanked his foot from Danny's weak grasp.

The massive gasp of air ripping into Danny's throat had him arching his back off the floor. He stopped and choked when he hit what felt like a massive cramp in his chest, and exhaled sharply, panting and coughing with hitched breaths. Tall guy gave him a good kick to the flank before reaching down and snagging his arm to drag him back – coughing and wheezing desperately - to the room.

" Danny!"

Danny was dropped, again, on his kicked side. He hugged his chest and curled into himself against a pain that kept on snatching the breath from him.

" Danny?"

The weight of a hand on his arm made him flinch and pull away involuntarily.

" Danny! Danny, it's all right. Come on, can you sit up? I need you to sit up, it'll help you breathe easier."

Lindsey, and her voice didn't sound right – too strained and broken. He felt the hand again, this time on both shoulders, pulling gently. Danny struggled, pushing himself up with one elbow, then one hand, but Lindsey still did all the work. Even up, he remained curled with his forehead pressed to his raised knees, and the cold soaked into him, making him shiver.

" Danny? Danny, look at me..."

Danny turned his head until his temple was resting on his knee to look into her tear stained face and reddened eyes. She quickly wiped leftover tears from her face and sniffed. She opened her mouth several times before finally speaking in a broken voice.

" I-I heard you scream..."

Danny coughed, then winced when the pain flared like mini knives shredding the muscles of his chest.

" Danny?"

Danny lifted his head and sat up the best he could manage to look down at himself.

Lindsey's hand shot shaking to her mouth. " Oh my gosh..."

Danny's chest was red with patterned bruising already fading into existence and joining the small, bleeding cuts the product of tall guy's boot. Every breath hurt, and only by taking short, quick pants was he able to get any air at all.

" That son of a..." he croaked, then succumbed to fitful coughing that hurt worse than breathing.

NY

The scream kept resounding in Hawkes' ears. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moved his hand to his head to run it over his scalp, kept it at the crown, then dropped it. He turned in an act of searching, except that he wasn't searching for anything, just moving to placate the agitation in his body crying out for him to do something. He wanted to run and tackle Ron, lay the guy flat, take off in the truck and get Mac, Stella and Flack in on this. He wanted to grab the nearest and biggest piece of junk he could find and hurl it at the man holding the picture phone turned to Hawkes, with the picture of Danny on the floor frozen in time as a foot pressed down on his chest. Coupled with the scream, it was going to haunt Sheldon's nightmares for a long, long time.

Finally, Ron flipped the phone closed. " I think you got the message." He shoved it back into his pocket, and jerked his head sideways toward the door. " Shall we go? Don't wanna keep Danny boy waiting."

NY

A/N: Tell me honestly. Does Ron make your blood boil, or do you find him rather generic? I always feel my bad guys are never 'evil' enough, mostly because I read other stories with such wonderful villains you not only hate, but want to do harm to. Every time I try to come up with a bad guy like that, I kill them too early.


	7. Panic to Desperation

A/N: I, again, apologize for taking so long with the next chapter. I was out of town for a week so didn't have access to my computer and stories. The story is almost complete, though I'm trying to smooth out how this is all going to end. Have to make sure it's fairly plausible and all. The plot of the story kind of twisted around what I originally had in mind.

Ch. 7

Danny had been wrong, unmercifully wrong, concerning the previous chest pain the product of sore muscles. That had been nothing but a dot in the universe compared to the pain now, and he longed for the old ache that had at least allowed him to breathe between coughing.

Too deep a breath and his chest would cramp up as though a knife were grinding against the bones. But with the coughing – now that was a nice slice of hell. He'd cough, agony would attack, and he couldn't stop the finish-up whimper even if he had a way to damage his own vocal cords. A rib was cracked, had to be, or maybe his sternum. It couldn't be simple bruising. He'd had both throughout his life so knew the difference. Although sometimes the similarity in pain was remarkably close with only a hair's width difference.

Danny was scared; not witless, panic-addled terrified, but worried to the point of shivering from more than just fatigue, and definitely more than chills because the chills weren't so present at the moment. The heat his body had been radiating without his knowledge was finally letting him in on the fact that he really did have a fever.

Lack of sufficient oxygen intake and rising fever gave Danny every right to be afraid. But he chose to hide it; number one with there being nothing that could be done about it at the moment and number two; it wouldn't help Lindsey's state of mind. He saw her pale, tear stained face and red eyes out of the corner of his own eyes, hovering almost phantasmal beside him, watching him with a sharp enough focus to notice every twitch of his muscles or blink of his eyes. She was cleaning the cuts with a wet rag, going at them slow and gentle. And still he winced.

Danny would never deny that Lindsey had spunk, strength, and attitude – he noticed all that the first day he met her despite her awkwardness and falling for his prank to have her call Mac 'sir'. But equally balanced to it was this massive caring side that had her sympathetic at the drop of a dime. When worried, she carried it around like a cinder block, shouldering the need to be concerned as though it were her responsibility to do so. Sometimes it was hard for her to control, and would burst like a dam that had her pacing, demanding, losing her temper though never reaching the point where she gave into tears.

New York style worry – don't get sad, get pissed, and she was quite adept at getting pissed.

Except the situation had gone beyond the luxury of being pissed. Lindsey was scared, and she was scared about _him._ Danny could see it in her eyes and the water pooling at the edge of her eyelids waiting for sufficient overflow to start spilling again. Plus her hands were shaking as she tried to help Danny without hurting him.

It twisted Danny's gut with guilt seeing as how she had enough to worry about with the creep squad just beyond the door. She shouldn't be losing her focus because of him. She needed to have a clear head, be able to think in a straight line without being torn between potentially getting shot or watching Danny slowly suffocate to death.

Danny was probably going to regret this in terms of pain, but at the moment he didn't care. " So..." he rasped, breathing fast and shallow to make up for lost lung capacity. " You.. uh... ride horses?" Redundant question since she already said she did, but Danny was grasping at what he could from an already exhausted and occupied mind. He was sitting up as straight as he could with the pillow positioned to help keep his head upright, but it only eased the pain in his chest to an ache, not out of existence. Breathing wouldn't allow him to forget about the damage.

" Ride 'em, train 'em. The vast majority of my extracurricular activities involved 4-H and barrel racing. I even taught riding lessons as a summer job."

" You have a particular horse?"

Lindsey swiped her eyes with her free hand to remove the lingering tears wanting to flood over. " Two, actually. And before you say anything; no, I wasn't a spoiled little girl who begged for a pony and was indulged. My parents breed paints on the side to everything else. My first horse, Gabby, I had to earn doing so many chores you'd think child labor would have had something to say about it. My second horse, Jinx, was a charity case. He'd been neglected, I brought him back to health, my parents let me keep him and I had my western pleasure horse for trail rides. Gabby was too competitive for slow walks through national parks."

Danny wanted to chuckle, but wanted more to avoid pain, so swallowed the laughter before it could breeze through.

" You still got 'em?"

Lindsey smiled tentatively. Danny's plan was working, and he noticed saw several of the smaller muscles of Lindsey's face unwind.

" Well, not here, no. My mom's using them to train future barrel racers and little girls with massive horse fetishes that they'll probably grow out of the moment they hit thirteen. My older sister was like that. It was all horses, horses horses, then boys, boys, boys."

" But not you?" Danny asked.

Lindsey shrugged, dropping the cloth to replenish the water in the glass. " I had the perfect balance. All the guys I liked were 4-H, so we already had something in common. Dates usually involved trail rides."

Danny grinned. " Beats the cliché of movies, movies, and more movies."

Lindsey held the glass to Danny's mouth, and he eased himself forward enough to take small sips.

" Yeah, they were fun, but I had my movie moments."

When finished, Danny eased himself back. " Who got to chose?"

" Actually, it was usually mutual. I know the stereotype is to see a romance on a date, but I find you pay better attention to action flicks, and get less pissed at the lead female who refuses to tell the guy she loves him when she obviously does, but keeps tip-toeing around it for the stupid reason of being engaged to a guy she doesn't even like."

Holding back a snicker was turning into a battle. " Amen to that."

" Although I do enjoy the occasional romantic comedy."

" I suppose. Too many dates ended early 'cause I'd never take a girl to see any of those. I mean, I know it sounds kind of selfish and all, but they put me to freakin' sleep which isn't any better. There was this one girl, though – Kasey Alester – she'd deck me if I took her to any of those lip-lockin' flicks. With her, it wasn't that uncomfortable boyfriend/girlfriend thing where you spend too much energy and time trying to impress eachother and keep the other one from breaking up with you. We were like old buds, and she was fun to be around, the kind of girl who wasn't all hung up on the knight in shining armor, Romeo and Juliet, buy-me-a-present everyday and sing me love songs crap. She was for real - let me be myself as long as she could be herself. Then she had to up and move on me. Didn't date much after that... Didn't want to deal with the drama."

Lindsey was smiling now, actually smiling, and a hell of a lot more relaxed as though the torment of only a few minutes ago had been nothing more than something just seen on TV.

" Unless you're a self-centered, womanizing creep into the romantic scene only to get laid, then you shouldn't have to change for anyone," she said.

Danny nodded, licking suddenly dry lips and trying to remoisten a suddenly dry mouth. Water was sweated out of him the moment it touched his tongue, and the easily ignored throb in his skull of only a moment ago was rising into a constant cracking like sledge hammers trying to break through the wall of bone. And he was hot, unbearably hot, with gut roiling toward nausea. It felt like car-sickness minus the motion, and he knew plenty about being car sick. It wasn't usually a problem for him except on hot days, sitting in a car with the windows rolled down instead of the A/C on, and his stomach empty. Flack had learned the hard way to take car-sickness seriously. Vomit all over the floor and dashboard of his car had humbled the man into driving less like a sixteen year old who'd just gotten his license.

" You know," Danny managed to say, attempting to ignore the discomfort, " I've always wanted to learn how to ride."

Lindsey perked ever so slightly. " Really?"

" Yeah. I mean serious riding. Fast riding. I have an uncle up north who raises horses. He taught us some stuff, took us on trail rides when we were kids... me and my brother."

" So you're familiar with it?"

Danny nodded. " I need more water."

Lindsey brought up the glass and Danny nursed the thing, drinking slow but non-stop.

" I could probably teach you," Lindsey said. " Maybe we could talk the mounted police unit into borrowing two of theirs. Or there's this place I found not too far from where you live, actually..."

Lindsey's words trailed off into echoing incoherence. Danny wasn't just hot, he was boiling, cooking from the inside out. His stomach churned, acid splashing, wanting to expel with nothing in it to expel. He struggled with an uncooperative hand at the blanket until it fell from his shoulders, but not his back. Since he was already breathing fast, there wasn't much change in that area. It was his heart that started to increase in rapidity, out of sickness, out of fear, and it made breathing a torment – he couldn't get enough oxygen into him to keep up with his racing blood.

Fear turned to terror. " Lindsey?"

NY

Lindsey stopped talking and didn't even manage a 'what' when her mind registered the change in Danny, and gut-clenching fright welled up in Lindsey like an arctic flood. His breathing rate had increased by a notch, easily overlooked. The fear in his eyes, the pleading for help, was like a slap to the face. She became confused, lost, didn't know what to do first let alone what needed to be done all together. Danny was struggling to breathe while also struggling from the blanket. It was the struggle from the blanket that snapped through the addled wall covering her brain, and her hand went to his forehead.

Burning to the touch, honest to goodness burning that could probably melt a whole bag of ice within a minute. Danny squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaws together so tight the muscles twitched. He was in pain, Lindsey had no doubts, and probably fighting nausea, with a part of her thankful he had nothing in his stomach to puke up.

He needed to be cooled down, right now.

Danny was probably going to hate her force this, but she figured as long as she didn't push it...

She took him by the shoulders to lean him forward and pull away the blanket, tugging it to her other side and pushing it away with one hand. She kept Danny leaning forward, with one hand on his shoulder and the other peeling the sweat-drenched shirt off his slick back and pulling it up over his head. He was a sight worse under the clothes – his skin colorless as a corpse and a little extra tight around his bones, with ribs, backbone, and collarbones sharp in detail.

" Wh-what... What are you doing?" Danny groaned between pants.

Lindsey winced, eyes burning with fresh tears, but determination and focus on the goal holding them back to keep them out of the way. " Sorry Danny. I need to cool you down. Just the shirt, though. Nothing else, I swear. No stripping you, right?" and she finished with a nervous, pathetic laugh.

Danny shook his head. " Don't... Don't do that." He attempted to struggle, or seemed to, which had him listing sideways. Lindsey grabbed him by the arm, but rather than hauling him back up let him slide down the bed to curl onto his side. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the bathroom, contemplating a cold spray, except there was no way she would be able to drag Danny's dead weight to the bathroom.

She grimaced at having thought 'dead weight', and also at what she was going to have to do.

She needed to ask for help, from _them_. She procrastinated, pouring water from the pitcher to soak the cloth, then squeezing the cloth over Danny's head then wiping his face and neck. But she wasn't naïve to think that alone would be enough.

Lindsey swallowed with a death grip on the cloth that had her hand shaking, and prayed she wouldn't regret this.

Hey..." it came out broken, so she cleared her throat. " Hey – hey! I – I need some help in here!"

The kid hurried in first, which Lindsey preferred, only to have her relief dashed when Creep and Quiet followed after.

" What now!" Creep snapped.

Lindsey gulped, placing her free hand on Danny's heated shoulder. She knew this was a bad idea.

" I – I..."

" What!" Creep bellowed, looking from Lindsey to Danny.

" I need help moving him," she blurted. " He's burning up and needs to be cooled down, now. I need to get him into the shower but I... I can't do it by myself."

Creep snorted. " So? How's that our problem?"

A very, very bad idea. She wanted to move to be between Creep and Danny, but felt as though she were being stared down by a pack of wolves, and the smallest movement would have them pouncing.

" I... I need someone to help me move him to the shower so he can cool off. The way he's burning up could kill him, please..."

The next snort was rhythmic, like laughter. Creep looked from the kid to the quiet guy in a joke neither was joining in on. " You want us to help you give this guy a bath?" His laughter increased with a shake of his head. He crouched at Danny's back and removed his glove to place his bared hand on Danny's arm.

" Crap. Your boy is liable to go up in flames." He clucked his tongue and rose while rubbing his hand off on his thigh, then tugging the glove back on. " Sucks to be him. Sorry, sweetheart but I'm not gonna be the one to drag his contagious ass to the tub." He looked between his cohorts. " Any of you guys up for it? 'Cause if you are, tell me now so I can avoid you later."

Lindsey's throat felt so constricted she could barely breathe. She was still scared, but seemed to be getting used to it enough to shove it back for the sake of a rising fury that had her shaking.

" What the hell is wrong with you," she said between painfully clenched teeth, voice wavering and chin trembling. " He's sick you heartless son of a bitch! All I'm asking for is help to bring his temperature down so he doesn't die so why the hell is that so difficult! This is your fault! _You _hurt him, probably broke a rib, which injuries like that can cause an increase in temperature. So if he dies it'll be because _of you!_ _Now somebody help me!"_

Creep stood to loom over Lindsey, covering her and Danny in his shadow, with arms hanging loose at his side like a cowboy waiting to draw. " How about you shut the hell up before someone hears you." He pointed a stiff finger at the gasping Danny. " Since your so hot on being his hero, you drag his scrawny ass to the shower. I ain't touching him."

Lindsey made her eyes go heavy lidded, every muscle twitching in the high of a massive adrenaline rush. " You didn't have a problem touching him when you hurt him."

" Contact was minimal," he countered. " And I'm done risking my butt." Creep then stalked out of the room, leaving the kid and the quiet guy.

Quiet guy was regarding Danny without visible expression, as though calculating something, perhaps assessing Danny's worth alive. He then looked to the bathroom and sniffed.

" Too small in there to get him through without a problem," he said. " Besides," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, " the less exposure we have to whatever your friend's got, the better. Sorry."

Then, for the second time that day, the kid came to the rescue. " Dude, I don't know. The boss said we needed him alive. There's gotta be other ways of coolin' him down. Maybe use ice or something."

Quiet searched the room until his eyes strayed to the window and held. " All right, here's the deal. It's pretty cold outside. If she can get him under the window, she can open it enough to let the air in. She tries to call for help or slip out - not that she would seeing as how she's not _stupid_, right?"

His eyes shot to her, boring into her hard and cold as a steel knife. Swallowing against a tight throat, Lindsey nodded.

" Right. If she tries to do any of those things, shoot her."

The kid nodded shakily but looked scared to hell. Not that it mattered, Lindsey had not intentions of pulling any escape attempts unless Danny could come with her, and there was no way that was going to happen.

Quiet left the room, and Kid moved to hover on the threshold. Lindsey moved while she still had adrenaline pumping through her like electricity, sliding her arms beneath Danny's armpits and wrapping them loosely in front of his chest. Keeping in a low crouch, she shuffled methodically backwards applying the pressure of her arms to his flanks rather than his chest. And still he gasped, stiffened, and uttered a broken cry of pain. On reaching the window, she moved enough to ease Danny's back against the wall just beneath the sill. The moment she released him, Danny doubled over with legs drawn up and arms hugging his chest. Lindsey tugged at the window, opening it inch by inch until the space was a hand width wide. Cold air spilled in like an invisible water fall to wash over Lindsey's hands and Danny's body.

Since she couldn't bring Danny to the cold water, she might as well bring the cold water to him. With quick assurances to the kid that she wasn't going to try anything, she grabbed the pitcher and rushed into the bathroom, twisting on the tap of the tub to let the water beat over her hand.

" Come on, come on..." she urged, bouncing on her heels. When it was arctic, she gathered the water into the pitcher and hurried back to Danny, dropping to her knees beside him.

" Danny, I apologize in advance for this and will gladly pay for the damages to your carpet."

Danny didn't replied, being too out of it to even listen to her. Biting her lip, Lindsey slid the fingers of her right hand beneath Danny's chin to lift his head, and with the other hand dumped the water over his head to let it splash down the rest of him. Danny pulled away in a convulsion of shock that had him gasping so deep he choked on his own breath and became caught up in a coughing fit that sounded as though his body were trying to expel his lungs.

Lindsey's heart tried to beat out of her chest. " I'm sorry, Danny, I'm so sorry..." she rose, grabbing the pitcher then the glass and rushed back into the bathroom. She returned with both filled, setting the pitcher down and holding the glass to Danny's mouth.

" Come on, Danny, drink. It'll help, I promise..."

Danny put his mouth to the rim and Lindsey tilted. Most of the water was lost in an explosive spray during the coughs, with a few swallows going down in Between. Danny went on coughing, and all Lindsey could do was grab the cloth, soak it without wringing it out, and maintain a constant application of cold water to Danny's heated skin. The coughing eventually subsided to lesser bursts that had Danny's body twitching. Exhaustion was absolute, and without warning he slid along the wall to the floor, shocking Lindsey into eliciting a tiny yelp of alarm.

" Danny!"

Danny remained motionless curled on his side, his breathing even more labored, harsh, and shallow. His mouth hung open, drinking in air like it was water in the desert. Lindsey could see his fear in the tightness of his face, and through the heavy-lidded eyes. His hand curled, clenched, and uncurled reflexively, clawing runnels into the carpet.

And all she could do was keep cooling him.

NY

TBC...


	8. Desperation to Discovery

A/N: Nearing the end folks, I promise. Hope you're still with me and again apologize for the delay. I jumped into writing this story a little sooner than I should have.

Ch. 8

Hawkes' heart felt ready to drop out of his chest. He maneuvered through the halls around CSIs and cops, heading toward the evidence locker but veering to check out the labs in search of Stella and that box. He he put on the facade of accidentally ignoring any lab tech who tried to grab his attention, and if that didn't work, feigned exasperation as though he were in a rush.

Except he wasn't feigning. He was in a rush. But was more teetering on the precipice of panic than simply exasperated.

The scream he'd heard over the phone, and the look of agony on Danny's face... if Danny had been injured just to push Ron's point, then there was a good chance his fever had been elevated. A rise in body temperature was all that was needed to turn Danny's illness into his own personal bio-hazard. It may have been wrong to think, but Hawkes was profoundly grateful that Lindsey was the second hostage in this mess. Alone with those impassive, indifferent, and potentially amoral creeps, Danny wouldn't have stood a chance. Sheldon internally squirmed on thinking it, but it was better that Danny wasn't alone in this. Although Sheldon would have preferred himself as being the second hostage. But life liked to go for being as complicated as it could get.

" Hawkes."

Sheldon stopped and froze. Heading down the hall toward him was one interloper Sheldon couldn't brush off so easily. Sheldon straightened, clearing his throat and wracking his brain for some excuse that would keep any conversation with his boss short and sweet, and already hated himself for doing so.

Mac slowed on approach and gave Sheldon a quizzical once over. " How's Danny?"

Sheldon opened his mouth. The need to tell Mac everything physically hurt to hold back.

" Uh..."

The worried look on Mac's face wasn't helping. Sheldon swallowed nervously.

" Heeee... was stable when I left. Out of it but, you know, fevers'll do that to you."

Mac nodded in agreement. " Where's Lindsey?"

Sheldon gaped. " Um... Oh! She stayed behind to help him out a little."

Mac's right eyebrow lifted. " She did? Really?"

" Yeah. Just for a little bit, make sure Danny had everything he needed. She knows she's on the clock and said she wouldn't be long. I'm going to pick her up when she's ready."

Mac's mouth turned up in one of his small smiles of mild amusement. " Lindsey? I find that... interesting."

Sheldon's heart pumped harder. "Oh. Why?"

Mac shrugged. " She just seemed rather adamant about avoiding Danny at all cost until he was better. I also thought that between the two of you, you'd be the one who'd want to stay behind and help Danny out. You're the human body expert after all."

Sweat slid down Sheldon's ribs and back. For the first time ever, Sheldon felt a prick of irritation at Mac's acute observational skills. Sheldon half-dreaded Mac had caught the scent of the former coroner's fear. The man was worse than a blood hound. " Well... Actually... There was something I wanted to check out in the evidence from the warehouse so Lindsey said she'd stay with Danny."

Mac said nothing for a moment as he held Sheldon's gaze, reading him over. Sheldon forced a flood of nonchalance he wasn't feeling into his eyes, and hoped that any inkling of worry spotted would be passed off as worry for Danny.

In some small comfort, at least Sheldon could say he wasn't totally lying to Mac, just bending the truth... into many, many shapes.

Finally, when the seconds felt as though they had dragged into minutes, Mac dipped his head in a single nod. " All right. Just be sure to bring her back as soon as you can."

Sheldon gave Mac a tight smile. " Will do. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know who has that box we found at the warehouse, would you?"

" In the lab. Stella actually wanted you and Lindsey to handle it when you two got back. She's focusing on I.D.ing the vic then wanted to look into finding the murder weapon."

Sheldon's heart now pumped for reasons other than fear. " Which lab?"

nynynynynynynynyny

Sheldon found the box pretty much untouched on the clean metal counter top in lab four. Sheldon snapped on the latex gloves and began removing each item from the box one at a time. For the sake of not looking suspicious, and to preserve as much evidence as possible, Sheldon went through the usual motions of picturing, bagging, and tagging. The methodical process made his nerves buzz with frustration, but habit helped him to maintain procedure.

Plus he still didn't know what it was he was looking for.

As with the brief case, the box was stuffed with files, folders, a leather notebook, and various papers either typed or scribbled on. Sheldon found various print-out maps of New York City, list of addresses, numerical data that held no meaning for Sheldon as of yet, and hand written notes written in short script and code. Scrap paper for the most part, unless the data had some importance only Ron knew about. Sheldon took pictures and put each item in a bag. He then focused on the leather notebook. The thing looked new, and expensive, but was stuffed with more wrinkled papers and maps.

Needle in a haystack. All the paper was a distraction. If Sheldon was right in his assumption that Jack wanted the authorities to find whatever it was Ron had wanted, then all the paper was the hay. Whatever it was Sheldon was looking for, it wasn't going to be paper.

He moved the paper from the notebook aside to study the notebook itself. If Jack was as smart as Ron had said, then he wouldn't have settled on paper scraps alone to hide this item. Sheldon studied the seams of the notebook, then squeezed the soft leather that creaked.

The back felt different from the front, harder actually. Turning it over, looking at the seams, he found the stitches of the seam to be heavier, thicker, and messier.

Sheldon grabbed a small pair of scissors from the equipment wrack nearby. He carefully snipped each thread over a small slip of paper to gather any skin alleles that might fall off. After the threads were cut, he removed them with tweezers, gathering each onto the paper. The slow process made his nerves vibrate louder, and his hands began to shake when he set down the last thread. Pulling the leather apart, he turned the notebook sideways and a plastic CD case dropped out to clatter on the metal table.

Sheldon's heart lurched and he exhaled a shuddering breath of triumphant relief. He snatched up the disk and was about to slip it into his pocket when he was struck with epiphany. Nodding to himself, he quickly gathered the bagged papers and other evidence to place into an evidence crate to set aside. Once that evidence was properly dealt with, he hurried from the lab and headed for the nearest computer lab.

Sheldon dropped into the seat of the first unoccupied computer he saw. Since time wasn't on his side, he didn't waste it looking at the data on the disk. He took the time only to scan it for viruses, then grabbed a blank CD and burned the info from Ron's prize onto that disk.

It was a lot of info to burn, and each minute that ticked away, Sheldon's nerves thrummed louder and louder. He drummed his fingers against the side of the keyboard, jerked his leg, tapping his heel, and chewed his lip, watching the upload like an eagle watching for the rabbit to pop out of its hole. When the burn was complete, he snagged both disks from the drive, putting each in its case. He scribbled a note on a slip of paper and taped it to the copied disk. The original disk he slipped into his pocket.

The simple action made Sheldon's stomach turn. Evidence tampering, no matter how seemingly minor, was sacrilege in the world of law enforcement. What Sheldon was going to do was down right damning. Were he self centered enough to keep quiet about this whole incident, then he would come out of it fine, albeit devoured slowly by guilt. But Sheldon wasn't self-centered. In fact, he was quite willing to face the consequences, not only to save the lives of his friends, but also if it meant Ron getting his ass shoved behind bars.

Hopefully, the copy he made would make up for his sacrilege.

Sheldon left the disk with the note on Mac's desk after assuring that Mac wasn't in. He then headed out, back to the truck where Ron waited. Sheldon pulled the disk from his pocket and tossed it to Ron on getting in.

" There. That what you wanted?"

Ron picked up the disk and smiled. " Yup. One more task, then we're done. Head back to your buddy's apartment, but park two buildings away."

Sheldon shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. " Why?"

Ron put the disk into his coat pocket, then pulled his cell out and began dialing. " Need to know basis, Hawkes. And you don't need to know."

NYC

Lindsey ran her hand through Danny's drenched hair, both to maintain a constant vigil of his temperature, and to provide a menial means of comfort. Danny was breathing in short, rapid pants like a dog suffering in the summer heat. The bruising on his chest was bright on his pale skin, forming the perfect pattern of a boot print. His eyes were closed, squeezed shut, but not because he was sleeping. He was shivering, but didn't have the strength to even curl up. The only upside to the whole situation was that Danny wasn't as boiling hot as he had been a while ago.

Danny's face was partially obscured by his arm save for his eyes. Lindsey shifted her gaze periodically from Danny's face to his heaving flank. The agonized tension in his face and pulsation of his ribcage kept back the voices wanting to convince her that Danny was dead. She was used to seeing the kind of pallor coloring Danny normally coloring the skin of a corpse. Lying near motionless on the floor in a partial fetal position, his skin being so white, him looking so thin, made him seem down right breakable, and it scared her. Any further motion other than his sides came when his whole body convulsed in a fit of coughing.

" You'll be all right, Danny," she said, though she had the feeling the words were said more for placating herself. " It'll be all right. We'll get you to a doctor as soon as we can." She removed her hand from his head to move his arm away from his face enough for a quick look. Her other hand shot to her mouth on seeing the slight blue-violet tint to Danny's lips. Tears swarmed her eyes until they blurred and ran fast and hot down her face.

" Oh no," she whimpered. " No, no, no, please no... Oh Gosh no..."

Putting her hand on his warm shoulder, she gently applied pressure until Danny started to roll onto his back. His breath caught from the pain of the motion, and his body jerked an inch off the floor when the coughing resumed. Each liquid, obstructed inhale made Lindsey's chest tighten in sympathy suffocation. She held her breath until Danny managed to pull in a noisy amount of air, then returned to his shallow, raspy panting. The blue coloring on his lips remained.

Lindsey hiccuped in a sob. " Please, Danny, keep breathing, just keep breathing..." she looked to the door, into the hall, saw the kid watching her, but knew better than to waste her breath asking for help. She simply glared at the kid, blaming him and his cohorts for what would soon be Danny's death if this mess didn't endf now. The kid stepped forward enough to be standing in the doorway.

" What's wrong now?" he demanded, trying to appear imposing, but looking tense as hell.

Lindsey sniffed and wiped the tear stains from her face with the heel of her hand. " His mouth is turning blue."

The kid shrugged. " Yeah, so?"

Lindsey lowered her eyebrows severely. " So? He can't breathe! He's suffocating, and if he doesn't get help soon, he's going to die!"

Silence settled between them enough for Danny's breathing to sound loud, harsh, and painful. Danny's hands were weakly clawing the carpet, and his foot twitched in response to his struggle for oxygen. The kid looked from Lindsey to the suffering Danny, and his attempted indifference vanished.

Not even the mask hid the kid's look of trepidation. " Um... just a sec." He rushed from the room but remained in the hallway, peering around the corner and calling to the two men in the living room. Lindsey strained her ears to snatch bits and pieces of the conversation. She heard something about a van, an oxygen tank, and sick guy suffocating. Mumbled replies were exchanged, then the kid returned looking a little less ready to wet his pants.

" Just hold up a moment. E's goin' to get the oxygen tank out of the van."

Lindsey wrinkled her brow and nose. " You have an oxygen tank?"

" Yeah. It ain't a big one, but it's come in handy for – um – the things we do." Then the kid grinned wanly. " Hell, we got helium too, we just haven't needed it yet."

E, i.e. quiet guy, didn't take long to return carrying a slim, calf-high tank into the room with a clear plastic oxygen mask in need of a good cleaning in the other hand.

" Get him on the bed," he instructed as he began piecing the mask and tubing together to hook to the tank.

Lindsey moved at Danny's head to take him under the arms, and the kid took Danny's legs. Together, they lifted him and laid him flat on his back on the bed. Lindsey pulled the crumpled sheet up to his chest. She didn't know why she did that, just felt more at ease having Danny covered, hiding his exposed, bruised, and malnourished body from these men, as though it was an affront for them to witness full on Danny's invalid state.

When the oxygen was ready, E slipped the mask over Danny's face and turned the knob on the tank. Lindsey heard the small whispered rush of air, and saw with relief the pained tension ease out of Danny's face as oxygen saturated his starving lungs. The tank E left leaning against the bed, and without another word left the room.

The kid, smiling, more relaxed, started backing into the hall. " See? We ain't gonna let him die."

At the moment, Lindsey didn't care what the men had in mind. Her focus was on Danny and watching him breathe. The relief that was filling her had her sinking to her knees at the head of his bed. She folded her arms on the mattress, and rested her head on her arms, just watching. The tank was small, probably didn't have much oxygen in it, but it had bought Danny some time.

Danny's eyes opened to narrow slits. Lindsey saw a glimmer of light when Danny rolled his eyes, then his head, in Lindsey's direction. She saw through the foggy mask the movement of his mouth, and leaned in to hear.

" On my bed," he whispered. Lindsey smiled wearily.

" Guess I managed to move your skinny butt after all," she said. " Breathing better?"

Danny's eyes slid back closed, and he nodded. Lindsey leaned to the side to snag the moist rag, wetting it in the pitcher then resuming her busy work of wiping down Danny's face. Her relief was short lived, but didn't give way to tension. She felt drained, lethargic, and plain old sad. Danny looked so worn out it was making Lindsey sleepy. He needed to rest, but knew he would fight the need as long as the creeps were in his place. Even now he forced his eyes back open to stare at her, glassy and partially aware. Truthfully, Lindsey wanted his eyes open, wanted him coherent so she didn't have to suffer only the rise and fall of his chest, waiting for the moment when the movement stopped. A little selfish, but fear tended to bring out the selfish side of people. Didn't mean she had to give into it, though.

" You need to sleep, Danny," she said. " It's all right to sleep. I'm still here, Hawkes will be back soon, then this'll be over. Just sleep and before you know it, you'll be in the hospital."

Danny blinked a long, slow blink and shook his head.

Lindsey lifted her own head off her arm. " Danny, sleep, just for a few minutes. You need the rest, please..." But Danny kept on shaking his head. Sighing, Lindsey gave his shoulder a small shove before lowering her chin back onto her arm. " You're a stubborn ass hole, you know that?"

She managed to make out his small smirk through the mask. But stubborn or not, Danny's body was calling the shots, and his eyes slid back closed. Lindsey smiled and continued wiping his face and neck. The chirp of a cell phone reached her from down the hall, and she paused, lifting her head and turning it enough to listen. She saw E pacing from the kitchen to the living room as he talked into the cell. It was a brief conversation, and after two minutes he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

" Boss needs my help," he said. " You two stay here and watch the kids. I'll be back in a little while."

" What's going on?" Creep asked.

" Nothing you need to worry about. Just watch these two, I'll be back soon."

He ignored Creep's further protests and headed out the door, throwing out final instructions to lock the door and not let anyone in. When E was gone, Creep threw his hands up with a snarled curse and vanished out of sight into the living room.

Lindsey didn't want to dwell on what that had been all about, and though she knew better than to give into hope, gave into hope anyway that E's exit was a sign that all this was coming to a close.

NYC

Hawkes pulled up to the curb two buildings down as Ron had instructed. The conversation on the phone between Ron and one of his men had been short and to the point; How are things, got the disk, come get me in the van. They arrived in time to see one of the men heading into the van and starting it up. Ron turned his head to look at Sheldon and grinned.

" Well Hawkes, guess this is where we say good-bye."

Sheldon looked back to the van pulling away in a U-turn to head toward them, but he could only see the driver, no one else. He looked back at Ron quizzically, nervously, his heart-rate climbing.

" What about my friends?"

Ron shrugged, opened the door, slid out, then turned to Sheldon. " Here's the thing, Hawkes. What happens to your friends depends on what you do next. Myself, I need time to get away, time I have thanks to your friends and my – _former_ - colleagues. You see, your next course of action is going to be to call in the calvary in hopes of getting them to hunt me down. Except they won't be able to, not if you want to get your friends out alive. You got a choice, Hawkes. Me or them. So you'd better hurry and make that choice. Once Mitch gets wind that I ain't coming back, he's not going to be too happy. Hell, he might just take it out on Danny-boy. Didn't seem to take much a liking to the kid if you hadn't noticed."

Ron shoved the truck door shut and hurried over to the van with a small wave of farewell to Hawkes. Hawkes couldn't move. He could only watch as Ron hopped into the passenger side and the diver pulled away down the street.

Terror wrapped invisible hands around Sheldon's throat. " Oh no." But the choke hold wasn't enough to addle his thinking. He pulled out his cell, and hit the number for Mac. The phone chirped, and Sheldon said a silent prayer that he didn't get voice mail.

NYC

A/N: One more chapter to go, and I'll try to post it as soon as I can. Then maybe an epilogue after.


	9. Discovery to Chaos

A/N: No worries, I'm still sticking with this story. Now hold on tight, folks. 'Cause awaaaaaay we go!

Ch. 9

Danny was warm. Or more to the point no longer freezing his ass off, or having his bones pressing against an unrelenting surface. But pleasant as these trivial comforts were, they didn't hold a dime to the sweet stream of oxygen saturating his lungs with each shallow intake. He drifted in and out, up and down, sinking to oblivion in the bliss of warmth around his body and air to his lungs, then snapping back to the surface of reality when recollection struck.

He had home invaders. He wasn't supposed to be sleeping. Except oblivion was quite persistent, or more his body that would rather bask in lethargy and oxygen than let his brain try to work out some solution to get Lindsey and him out of this mess. Danny shifted, actually looking for a less comfortable position in order to annoy himself enough not to drift off again. Instead, he settled deeper. And Lindsey wasn't much help as she continued to insist he sleep.

Danny slid his hand under the pillow on his next squirm to stay awake, and his fingers brushed cool metal. Curiosity shoved back the lethargy enough for Danny to explore the strange object beneath his head. He felt it out, mentally mapping the shape of the thing through touch. He knew the shape, the texture, his brain simply refused to cough up the answer. Until he felt the hole in the other end.

_Gun. My gun. My freakin' gun!_ The realization made his heart jolt, but only his heart. Now that he knew what the object was, lethargy slunk back in trying to throw a haze over Danny's mind. He fought it, wrapping his hand around the grip of the automatic, wracking his brain for a means to use this discovery. He had a weapon, which meant squat if he didn't have a means to use it that wouldn't end in them all face down on the floor bleeding to death.

Danny struggled, but potential plans turned into dreams, and he was out again.

NYC

Sheldon paced in short strides and tight round-abouts in front of the stoop of Danny's apartment complex, passing his hand over his mouth then shifting it to rub his head. His heart was determined to beat out of his body, and he didn't blame it. At this moment, he actually kind of wished he were someone else, someone like Mac, who would have a better idea of what to do. The man was a veteran and seasoned detective, and you couldn't be any more at an advantage in the problem solving department than that.

Hell, Mac probably could have had this whole ordeal sorted before it had even began.

As though granting some unspoken wish, another CSI issued truck pulled in and parked behind Sheldon's. Mac slipped out of the driver's seat, and Flack the passenger's, with Stella following after from the back seat. A police car parked behind them, lights and sirens off as Sheldon had requested and to his great relief. Sheldon went to them so they wouldn't end up within sight of any of the building's windows.

" Mac, I am so sorry about this..." Sheldon began. Mac held up a hand to stop him.

" We'll talk about this later, although I'll tell you right now I already don't see this as your fault. I need you to tell me what you can about the men still in Danny's apartment."

Sheldon nodded. " Not really much except that one of them's a complete ass hole. Hot-head type, and very likely trigger happy. He... um..." Sheldon placed his hands on his hips and glanced to the ground. " He seemed to really enjoy roughing up Danny." Sheldon then returned his gaze to Mac. " Mac, you've got to make whatever happens next happen as fast as possible. Danny's real sick and this whole mess will have made it worse."

Mac placed a hand on Sheldon's shoulder. " We're going to do everything we can, Hawkes, all right? We'll get them out of there and get Danny to a hospital."

Sheldon nodded. Mac squeezed his shoulder. " Good. It'll be all right."

Sheldon might have been more convinced if he hadn't caught the brief flicker of fear in Mac's eyes.

NYC

Lindsey could have set her watch by the way Danny kept slipping off to sleep only to jerk awake two minutes later. When he slept, he looked at peace. When he awoke, he looked exhausted. Lindsey was just glad he wasn't looking blue from oxygen deprivation.

The sound of movement drew her gaze away to the hall. She saw Creep move across it, and the kid watching him. When Creep passed again, Lindsey witnessed him shaking both hands as though trying to flick something off them. Sort of like what people do in states of extreme agitation.

" This is taking too freakin' long," Creep muttered.

" Maybe they got hold up in traffic," the kid said.

" They would have called. E would have headed back up here. _Something."_ A few seconds later, Lindsey flinched at a loud thud.

" Damnit!" Creep cursed.

Lindsey's heart started to pound.

NYC

Mac rubbed at his chin and along his jaw as he paced and wracked his mind. Two perps, one of them violent. Two CSIs, one of them extremely ill. If threatened, the perps would use Lindsey as a hostage, possibly kill her, then use Danny until the illness finished him off. That's how Sheldon had explained it in a nutshell.

Mac would admit to being scared. It was a controlled, tempered fear, one that wouldn't debilitate, but one that was making his heart pump pretty fast. Standard procedure would only lead to a hold up that would very well end in the loss of both his CSIs. They needed to take the perps by surprise, get into that apartment before either one could get to Danny and Lindsey. And right now the only one who'd be able to do that was Hawkes. The former ME was a part of this, so the perps wouldn't be immediately suspicious of him with the right back story as to why the head of this fiasco wasn't with Hawkes. The problem was it meant having to put Hawkes back into the fray, and Mac had no desire to do that.

Not really much of a choice, though. He looked over at Hawkes, who was staring at the apartment complex, hands on hips, leg twitching and back tense enough to snap. He wanted back in there. He wanted to be a part of this, which made Mac reluctant to discuss any plans with him.

But, again, there was the pesky fact that no further options were forthcoming.

Flack approached Mac after speaking with the two officers that had followed them, Stella keeping stride with the taller man.

" How we gonna play this, Mac?" Flack asked. " Full force or something more subtle?"

Mac glanced at the building. " Definitely not full forced." He then waved for Flack and Stella to follow. Mac headed toward Hawkes, who seemed to sense Mac's approach and turned.

" Mac?" Hawkes said with a heavy cocktail of hope, anger, and fear in that brief tone.

" This is a delicate situation, Hawkes," Mac said. " I'd rather not have you going back up there, but we need a way into that apartment, and at this moment, you're the key."

Hawkes nodded. He didn't need any elucidations.

Mac looked around at those gathered. " All right, here's what we're going to do..."

NYC

Danny opened his eyes to a blurry world. The only clarity – or close to clarity – was Lindsey still sitting leaning against the bed with one arm resting on the top. Danny closed his shaking fingers tighter around the rough grip of his gun. There was no way in hell he'd be able to aim, no way to protect Lindsey if it came down to needing the gun. Danny was pretty much useless in the long run, except that he had a gun, had his hand on it now, he just couldn't use it.

But Lindsey could.

Danny moved his hand, spreading his fingers to cover the gun. He began moving it, inch by inch, so painfully slow he wanted to scream curses at himself. He'd certainly picked a bad week to go decrepit. He slid the weapon from under his pillow to beneath the sheet, closer and closer toward Lindsey. Then he released it, and snaked his hand out toward Lindsey's arm and nudged it.

Lindsey's head snapped around to him, and she removed her arm from off the bed. Danny slid his hand down the side of the mattress and out from under the sheet. He took Lindsey's wrist into his flaccid grip and pulled. It took effort, way more effort than it should have, causing Danny's hand to tremble hard. Lindsey stared at him with brow furrowed and eyes starting to go a little panicky. Danny brought Lindsey's hand to the gun and released.

Danny pulled in as deep a breath as he could, coughed, then pulled in another.

" Surprise..." he breathed, and smiled weakly, " Montana."

NYC

Lindsey stared at Danny's pale face in wide-eyed shock as her fingers roved over the cool metal of a gun. She could almost make out Danny's small grin, which soon melted into a pained frown. He squinted, then began coughing until his whole body shook with it. He pulled in a wheezy breath, and coughed more. When he next opened his eyes, what Lindsey saw broke her heart.

Pain, and fear. Utter helplessness.

A frantic knock at the door forced Lindsey to turn away. Without even fully realizing what she was doing, she slipped the gun from under the covers to under her shirt, tucking it into the waist band of her pants at the back.

Creep strode stiffly to the door and pressed himself to one side with gun drawn and raised.

" Who is it?" he tersely called.

" It's Hawkes. Let me in. Ron wanted me to deliver a message."

NYC

Sheldon's heart was trying to pulverize itself now. His eyes darted between Mac pressed against the wall on one side of the door, and Flack and Stella pressed against the other, all with guns ready. The two uniforms were hidden around the corner of the hall.

" Where's Ron?" Creep asked.

" Outside waiting. That's the message. He wants you guys to head down now. He got what he wanted... So it's time to go."

There came silence for a moment, enough for Hawkes to hear footfalls, and some kind of shuffling. There was a shout, one of panic, the voice female.

" Stop it! Leave him alone!"

" Shut up!" Creep snarled. There followed a heavy thud, like something being dropped. " Get over here now!" Creep shouted.

Sheldon's stomach twisted, and he had to swallow several times to push back the bile trying to burn into his throat. He looked to Mac, who seemed suddenly uncertain – spooked - and that scared Hawkes to the point that he almost did puke.

" I said get over here or I blow his brains out!"

" He can't breathe...!"

" I don't give a damn! Now get over here...!"

Gunfire erupted loud as an explosion. Hawkes flinched and stepped back, just as Flack and Mac moved into begin kicking at the door.

NYC

Lindsey Just stood there, rigid and still as a tree, with the gun pointed at the immobile Creep sprawled on the floor when the door burst open and Mac, Flack, Stella, and Hawkes rushed in. She heard, like the echo in a dream, Mac and Flack shouting at the kid to put his hands up, the kid who had stood by and done nothing for his partner. Lindsey felt like she was in a dream, falling asleep the moment Creep had marched agitatedly into Danny's room. Lindsey had been ready to shoot him then, except Creep had been quick about flinging back the covers, ripping away the oxygen mask, and pulling Danny off the bed, onto the floor, and into the main room. Lindsey had shouted, Creep had shouted, but all Lindsey had heard were Danny's struggling breaths and pain-filled moans.

She was still hearing them, even now.

Creep had had his gun pointed at Danny. That must have been the last straw. Lindsey had whipped out the gun Danny had given her without a second's thought or hesitation. Creep was so surprised he never even considered raising the gun to point it at Lindsey. Lindsey's aim had been true – bullet right to the head, smack in the middle.

And that was it.

She was vaguely aware of someone trying to take the gun. At that point, she woke up.

" Danny!"

Forgetting everyone and everything else except for Danny writhing on the floor, trying to pull in air, Lindsey ran to the room, grabbed the mask and tank, and ran out to place the mask back over Danny's face. Danny sucked in several shallow, rasping breaths that ended more than once in coughing fits that had him curling into himself and tightening his face with pain. Lindsey remained kneeling beside him with one hand on his side and the other stroking his hair.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump and snap her head around and up to see Stella crouching beside her.

" You all right?" Stella asked, all sympathy and worry. Lindsey nodded numbly. Stella nodded back, then looked down at Danny, and the worry became fear. The woman acted fast, even when there seemed nothing they could do. She removed her blue CSI jacket, folded it up, and placed it under Danny's head. Following that was Danny's blanket from off his bed being draped over his body. Lindsey looked up to see Hawkes in the act of kneeling down on Danny's other side, adjusting the blanket, then checking Danny's pulse at the neck.

A worried crease formed in Hawkes' brow, and he looked up at Lindsey. " Where'd the tank come from?"

Lindsey looked over to where Flack had the kid against the wall, cuffing him. The kid no longer seemed afraid, or even nervous, just resigned.

" They weren't all bad," Lindsey said. She looked back at Hawkes. " Please tell me an ambulance is coming."

Hawkes looked toward the door. Lindsey heard the distant sound of a brief conversation, and seconds later two paramedics entered with a stretcher. Lindsey practically melted. She wanted to laugh, but knew better since it was already turning into a sob. With Stella's help she rose and stepped back to let the paramedics surround Danny and take over. Lindsey watched with hand over her mouth as the dirty mask was replaced with a clean one, and an I.V. was attached.

She also saw Danny's eyes open momentarily, disoriented, pained, afraid – helpless. Lindsey wiped her eyes before the tears had a chance to fall, and stepped over to the paramedics.

" Can – can I come with him?" She said. Then chuckled a little. " He... Um... has this thing about ambulances..."

NYC

A/N: Ah, sweet rescue. I said there would be an epilogue, but it may be a chapter and epilogue combined. You'll see what I mean.


	10. Chaos to ConclusionsEpilogue

A/N: I apologize profusely for taking my sweet blasted time with this. The organization of this chapter was giving me trouble. Heck, endings in general give me trouble. Sorry if this ending seems a bit fast but I didn't want to keep the story dragging out. This is all wrap up now.

Ch. 10

Lindsey looked up when she heard the clatter of multiple footsteps enter the waiting room, and straightened on seeing Mac, Hawkes, Stella, and Flack heading her way.

" Any word?" Mac asked, sitting next to Lindsey with Stella taking the chair on the other side. Hawkes and Flack remained standing. Lindsey actually wanted to join them. The chairs were hard, and agitation made her nerves hum. But she'd been cajoled to sit by a nurse who thought she was going to collapse, and had probably been right. Going at it with her agitation was an exhaustion keeping her mind and senses numb. She shook her head in response to Mac's question, but it took her a moment to form words.

" Um... I think they're checking him over... I-I..."

A hand on her shoulder made her jump and her heart lurch.

" Lindsey," it was Stella's hand, " it's all right. He'll be all right. Just take it easy, it's over now."

" Maybe we should get a doctor to look you over," Mac said, but Lindsey shook her head vehemently.

" No.. no, Mac I'm fine..."

Mac leaned forward enough to catch Lindsey's wandering gaze and hold it. " No, you're not. I want you and Sheldon both checked out. After what you've been through, I wouldn't leave anything to chance at this point."

" Mac's right, Linds."

Lindsey looked up at an exhausted but fidgety Hawkes, both hands on his hips and one leg twitching. If Lindsey didn't know any better, she could have sworn he looked ready to bolt. If not bolt then start beating his fist against the wall. It's what she wanted to do. If her body went any more numb she could easily pass all this off as a dream – if she didn't pass out first.

Lindsey nodded vacantly in assent.

Stella talked to a nurse at the front desk who was quick about fetching two doctors for a quick assessment of Hawkes and Lindsey. They were taken to separate rooms, and Lindsey had to force herself to sit still as the female doctor took vitals, checking heart rate, pupil dilation, blood pressure and a whole host of other things Lindsey didn't think necessary. When finished, the news was that Lindsey's blood pressure and heart rate were elevated (no surprises there) and she was slightly dehydrated but nothing a cup of water couldn't fix. She was given water, and sent back out into the waiting room where she found Hawkes drinking from a cup of his own.

Lindsey walked up next to him, refusing to sit this time around. But after thirty minutes passed, exhaustion was winning out over agitation, and she finally relented to sitting.

Another minute later and a middle-aged man in a white lab coat headed toward them.

" You people with Messer?" he asked, seeing as how they were the only ones in the room at the moment. Those sitting stood, and those standing turned.

" Yeah," Mac replied. " How is he?"

" Stabilized. He's got a lung infection that's escalated to a nasty case of pneumonia and we've had to drain his lungs which isn't a very pleasant process. But it's helped to make room in his lungs, and along with oxygen he's breathing more comfortably. X-rays revealed that he has two cracked ribs, and has severe bruising to his chest but nothing life threatening. He's dehydrated, which I'm not surprised by because of the fever. He's also malnourished which is what I wanted to ask you about. I was told that he was in a hostage situation?"

Mac nodded, scrunching his brow in consternation. " Yeah, but I doubt long enough to become malnourished."

Sheldon raised his hand to grab the doctor's attention. " Danny's been sick for the past couple of days, and when we went to see him he told me he hasn't been able to keep any food down."

Both the doctor's eyebrows lifted. " He's been throwing up his food?"

Sheldon nodded. " He could barely get out of bed, too. When we found him, he was on the floor and couldn't get up."

The doctor looked down at the clipboard he was carrying. " Huh. Okay we started running some tests, including blood-work, but won't know the results for a while. Now, mind you this is just a theory, but one I thought I'd share since it couldn't hurt to have it checked out. In fact, it might be wise. My review of Mr. Messer's medical history tells me that besides for broken bones, wounds, and the rare cold, he's other wise a very healthy individual. Used to smoke but quit and has kept his lungs clean since then. I don't see him getting an infection this severe unless something caused it. Asbestos, a heavy pollutant, chemicals... Has there been any construction going on near where he lives or works? Renovation? Is the place where he lives clean or run down?"

Some in the group shrugged, others shook their heads.

" Not to my knowledge," Mac said.

The doctor nodded. " Well, we'll know more when the tests come back. In the meantime, we're attempting to bring his fever down and he's resting comfortably. We have him in ICU for now, but as soon as his temperature comes down we'll move him to where you'll be able to visit. For now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to hold off on visitations. I need to know who to contact in case of an emergency..."

Mac lifted his hand. " Me."

" And you are...?"

" Mac Taylor, his boss."

" Does Mr. Messer have any family that should be contacted as well?"

Mac nodded. " Yeah, I can give you that info."

Mac and the doctor moved away from the group as the doctor gathered the needed information.

"His place looked pretty clean to me," Flack said. "If you don't count the mess those bastards made."

The relief of the moment having washed away remnants of adrenaline now left Lindsey in an odd state of both exhaustion and agitation. Were she at home, right now, she would have crawled into bed with the intent to sleep for days, and yet would be unable to close her eyes. She knew this as a fact from days of tough cases that left her body spent but her mind on automatic over drive. What was even more strange was how the mind kept working when trying to sleep, while awake the mind stumbled as though trying to dream. Even now her mind was wandering like an ambling drunk over everything that happened, from the chaos to mundane conversations concerning best dates ever and ants.

Ants – Danny had mentioned something about an ant infestation, there one day and gone the next. Adrenaline snapped back into Lindsey's body, enough to get her straightening and her mind clearing.

"Stella," Lindsey said. "We need to go back to Danny's apartment."

Stella looked at her in mixed sympathy and resolve. "Lindsey, you can't process the scene..."

Lindsey shook her head. "No, that's not why. Which is why I want you to come with me since you _can_ process. I just want to check something. It has nothing to do with what happened there, I promise, so it won't affect the case either way. I think I may know why Danny's so sick."

nynynynynynnyny

Lindsey and Stella stepped gingerly over the police tape and around markers already placed beside footprints in the carpet, on the kitchen floor, and the massive pool of blood that would leave a stain on the floor. Lindsey made a mental promise that once the scene was cleared and the crime scene clean up crew had finished clearing the mess up, she would come back to scour for and scrub anything they happened to miss; erase completely everything that had happened here.

Unless Danny decided the memories weren't worth staying in the place. Lindsey felt she had come to know Danny enough to also know he wouldn't dream of moving. The man was stubborn, and he wasn't going to let a bunch of home invaders drive him from his place. The least Lindsey could do was wipe away any vestiges of what happened for him to come back to.

Someone was already there processing – placing markers and flashing pictures. Stella explained their presence, and Lindsey pointed out the best places to swab. The kitchen counter along the edge, around the sink, in the cupboards, and finally the air vent - one swab at a time. When they were finished, they headed out, but not before Lindsey cast one last look toward the bedroom where Danny's quilt and blanket were crumpled on the floor. For the first time since stepping back in the apartment, Lindsey realized it was freezing. In all the chaos, she'd forgotten to close the window.

Funny how the unimportant things become important for no reason. She would have to make sure it was shut when she cleaned. She wouldn't want Danny freezing his butt off.

Stella and Lindsey had a quick talk with the landlord, then headed back to the lab.

The talk with the landlord and processing the swabs confirmed what Lindsey had suspected. Stella called an emergency conference in the labs, surrounded by the results. When everyone had arrived, she let Lindsey do the talking.

"We know why Danny's sick," Lindsey said. "Sometime around a month and a half ago the apartment next door to Danny's had an ant infestation. A pretty nasty one according to the super of the building that had him calling professionals instead of dealing with it himself. A number of chemicals were used, including powders and fumigation. Now, also according to the super, these so-called professionals used every precaution during fumigation. However, after Stella went over Danny's kitchen, we found traces of chemicals not uncommon to the kind of chemicals used..." she allowed herself a smug, but also somewhat bitter smirk, "to kill vermin. The heavy duty stuff normally only handled by 'professional' exterminators. We found it all over his kitchen, and our theory is that the exterminators the super hired weren't as professional as they claimed."

Stella stepped aside to give the others a chance to peek into the microscope. "Traces were small around Danny's kitchen but heavier in his air vent."

Mac looked first, then Hawkes. Flack hung back since he always openly admitted to anything chemical related not making a lick of sense to him.

"Some of the chemicals the exterminators used leaked into the vent," Lindsey continued, "and spread into his kitchen, both in powder and gas form. So not only was he breathing this stuff in, he was ingesting it as well, both in small enough amounts to make him sick over time rather than all at once."

"What about the person who lives in that room?" Mac asked.

"It's unoccupied," Stella said. "And Danny's vent is the only one connected to that room, so he's the only one who got sick."

"And we already contacted Danny's doctor about it," Lindsey finished. "They say it'll make a bigger difference now that they know what to look for."

Mac smiled. "It always does. Good job you two."

Stella smiled back. "Thank Lindsey. She's the one who had the epiphany."

Lindsey shrugged modestly, flashing a sheepish smile. "Thank delirious babbling, actually. I recalled Danny having said something about ants. One of those 'something good coming out of something bad' things." It was always funny how that worked.

nynynynynynyny

After Lindsey's revelation explaining Danny's condition, Mac and Hawkes left to finish their journey to Mac's office. The tension over Lindsey's and Danny's situation, then Danny's health, sifted out like sand through a funnel. The only tension remaining involved the consequences. Sheldon had stolen evidence, and that was something that couldn't be ignored.

"Sit," Mac instructed. Sheldon's heart stuttered a little at Mac's unreadable tone. Mac took a seat behind his desk, pulling the disk that Sheldon had left toward him.

"We had the boys down at the computer labs look over the disk."

Sheldon straightened, and for a moment forgot all about consequences. "What did you find?"

"Schematics - blueprints - for homes. High end places with the kind of security one step under Fort Knox. And not just places here, but also homes in Beverly Hills, Chicago, New Hampshire... I did some checking and discovered that the homes on this disk have been robbed, several not that long ago. Except for the blueprints of a house here in New York belonging to a Jeff Clemmons."

Sheldon's eyebrows shot to his scalp. "Jeff Clemmons? Doesn't he own that software company...?"

Mac nodded, "That develops programs like the ones we use to digitally recreate crime scenes. I sent the findings over to the task force. They're setting up a sting operation even now."

Mac slowly sobered, and tension snapped back into Sheldon's body.

"Hawkes, Listen. I probably don't have to tell you that there's going to be an investigation. You stole evidence that you handed over to a suspect, which some might see as consorting and tampering. But I want you to know you did the right thing. People are going to tell you how it should have been handled, that what you did was pretty much tantamount to negotiating with terrorists. But in the end, you did what you felt you had to. Danny and Lindsey are alive because you did, and that's what matters. You also gave us what we needed to track these guys down. So no matter what anyone else says, you did good out there Hawkes. You did right, so don't worry about anything else. I'll make sure the right people come to realize this."

Finally, the last vestiges of tension flitted away, and Sheldon's body sagged. Yes, he knew the situation was far from over, but just knowing that Mac had his back – and approval – gave him hope enough not to cling to trepidation.

"Thanks Mac. Thank you so much."

Epilogue

The house was a set-up, a distraction, which was discovered long after the fact when a tech going over the disk for a third time discovered another set of blueprints hidden behind an encryption. The real target wasn't even located in the city, but farther north out in the country. The house had already been broken into and the thieves gone by the time the information was relayed to the authorities there. Those same authorities had been polite verbally in receiving the info, but their underlying inflection clearly relayed 'your timing sucks, thanks for nothing.'

The IAB came, investigated, subjected Sheldon to grueling interviews with the seeming intent being nothing more that to piss him off. Mac made due on his promise of having Sheldon's back, and made the IAB painfully aware of the details behind why Sheldon had done what he had done. In the end, Sheldon was left off with a slap on the wrist warning that let him know the IAB would be watching him.

"Big whoopty-freakin' do," Danny rasped. He tilted his head back into the pillow and rolled it in Sheldon's direction. "Welcome to the club, pal. I'm surprised they didn't demote your butt back to the morgue."

Hawkes chuckled softly. He was sitting on a stool on one side of Danny's bed, and Lindsey was sitting on the other side.

"Making a copy of that disk saved my ass. I think if I hadn't done that, then – yes – I'd be elbow deep in another dead body."

Danny nodded, then jerked and convulsed with coughing. Lindsey handed him a plastic cup of cold water to help wash the phlegm back down his throat. Danny grimaced and sipped, rubbing his chest that felt as though it had tried to split in half. Coughing was hell, but a lesser evil when compared to the inability to breathe. Lindsey had explained to him about bug poison being the cause for his misery. Hawkes joked about lawsuits against exterminators, but Danny was starting to seriously consider it. Those morons had put him through hell. Danny, however, wasn't that kind of a vindictive guy. Normally all his acts of revenge involved fists, and he sat in courtrooms enough as it was when presenting evidence and finds.

Besides, the majority of him being pissed had another outlet.

"So that SOB Ron's still out there, huh?"

Sheldon nodded solemnly, and Lindsey scowled.

"His real name's Byron," Lindsey said. "According to Kevin, that kid. Kevin didn't know his last name, though. And not to put down the only one of those creeps that was helpful, but he didn't know squat."

"He wouldn't," Sheldon said. " Ron... Byron... said that his crew except for that Elliot guy weren't permanent. Thus the ditching them after he got the disk to make a clean break."

"Bastard," Danny whispered. His throat ached too much to speak any louder.

"Well," Sheldon said, "At least we won't have to worry about him unless he tries to rob another place in the city."

Danny shrugged. "I wouldn't mind another go at him."

Sheldon shook his head and patted Danny's shoulder. "Wait until you're back on your feet first. Now if you two don't mind, I'm starved, and I'm in the mood for something other than what's in a vending machine. I'm thinking Chinese. Lindsey?"

"I could go for some Lo Mein."

"I second that," Danny said.

Sheldon gritted his teeth apologetically. "Sorry, Danny, I'll have to owe you one. You're on a strict diet until your digestion's back up to par."

"Diets are about losing weight. I'm supposed to be gaining. How the hell does drinking crappy milkshakes help that?"

Sheldon patted his shoulder again. "It does, trust me. When you're ready, it's pizza all the way, your choice of toppings."

"You're making me drool, pal."

Sheldon chuckled and headed toward the door.

"Hey Hawkes?"

Sheldon stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Thanks man, for everything. I'm sorry IAB had to give you hell about it."

Sheldon smiled. "No problem, man. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He then left so that it was just Danny and Lindsey. Danny rolled his head in her direction.

"Suppose thanks are in order for you too, Monroe."

Lindsey leaned with her arms folded on the bed rail and her chin resting on her arms. "You think?"

Danny smiled wearily at her. The damn medication always made him too sleepy too fast. "Hell yeah. If you hadn't of been there..." he trailed off at that, dropping his smile. It was a two way street. If she hadn't have been there, she wouldn't have gone through that hell. But if she hadn't have been there, Danny would be dead. He owed her on so many levels there seemed no humanly possible way to ever repay her.

Lindsey reached out to clutch his shoulder that looked bony even through the gown. He wasn't emaciated according to the doctors, but being a lean guy the weight he lost was an unhealthy amount. The moment Danny was back on his feet, he was hitting the batting cages, and upping his basket ball games with Flack to two games a day. He liked exercises that involved motion. Gyms and weight machines had never been his thing – too still.

Being still – well, hell, it made him feel vulnerable. He'd admit that to himself seeing as how he'd come to realize it the hard way.

"I'm glad I was there, Messer," Lindsey said. "Not happy about it, but glad. Someone needed to be there for you."

"Through all that?"

"Especially through all that. You could have died, Danny."

"You could have too."

"Yeah, but you didn't let me, and I didn't let you."

Danny huffed, which his ribs didn't like, and he grimaced against the pain. "I didn't save you."

Lindsey swatted him lightly on the arm. "Yes, you did. You armed me. You gave me the means to protect myself and you, so you could say you saved us both. Face it, Danny, we all saved each other. Just a whole lot of saving." She lifted one hand to swipe at her eyes that had started to shimmer with moisture. "I won't lie, Danny. I never want to go through that again. But if I had to do it over – like Hawkes said – I would. I wouldn't leave you to that."

Danny lifted his languid hand to place it on Lindsey's arm. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. But, to be honestly selfish, I'm glad I wasn't alone."

Lindsey swiped her eyes a second time and chuckled lightly. "You're welcome." She took his hand and placed it back on the bed. "And go to sleep already. It's okay to now."

Danny grinned. "And miss all the teary-eyed, heartfelt apologies and thanks?"

"Sleep, Messer. You need to get better. I promised you a horse riding lesson and I mean to keep that promise."

"Lookin' forward to it Montana."

"Stop calling me that."

Danny let his eyes slide close and his body melt into the warmth of the mattress. "Never."

The End

A/N: Finally! Right? Sorry that it isn't quite the closer you all wanted and that Byron got away. I initially had in mind Byron getting caught, but the way I developed his character screamed about that being a big 'no-no'. He ended up being the kind of guy who thought ahead, so it didn't seem right that he would be caught so easily. Plus I left it open for a possible sequel, though I make no promises for one – can't seem to think of one. If someone else has their own story idea and would like to use Byron, that's cool, but please ask me first.

Also, I'm not sure if lingering chemicals used in exterminations processes would continue to have an affect on someone's health (although I do know that during the extermination process, if there was a leak, they would) and I was too lazy to look it up. However, I know there was an episode – or two – on one of the CSIs that dealt with something similar either with chemicals, molds, and so on, so I just went with it. I'm pretty sure if some type of powder was used, and wasn't cleaned up properly, it could cause health problems.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed, and sorry again for taking so long.


End file.
